The Old Lot
by GreenEyeObsession
Summary: “Luna, I don’t suppose you were wondering why exactly we’re here?” Luna looked up, slightly puzzled. “Well, I thought it was obvious.” Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. “You already know?” asked Ginny. Luna: “Well, you’re looking for Harry aren’t you?
1. The Doll

A young woman sat in her closet, sneezing from the dust. There were papers spread across the floor, and she had just uncovered a heavy box from within the depths of the closet when huge balls of dust escaped into the air around her nose. She could see the lot of it; sunlight poured in through the window next to her and the tiny particles were visible through the rays. Her nose had turned red and puffy from sneezing and blowing it into a tissue, and when slightly recovered, she returned to her process of sorting through the papers galore.  
  
To her right sat the box. She was nervous to open it, for fear of what lay inside. So far, she had found pictures of her family and old pieces of parchment from school. But she hadn't found any pictures, or letters from. him. Finding the strength she needed, Ginny opened the box.  
  
On top lay a single piece of blank parchment. A sigh of relief escaped her before realization told her there was sure to be much more to the box. She lifted the parchment, and she gasped.  
  
Beneath it laid a picture of the last day of her brother's seventh year. Standing waving at her were Ron and Hermione, arms wrapped around each other, and Harry, who was standing off to the side. He was making disgusted faces at the two, but then held a hand to the side of his face to hide his mouth from them. He blew a kiss.  
  
She couldn't bear it. She slammed the lid on the box, the spare parchment forgotten, and shoved it back into the closet. Her anger let loose for several more seconds before the tears came. Trying to hide them wouldn't make them go away, she thought. But she wasn't ready. Wiping her face, she stood up and walked out of the room. Then she heard squealing coming from outside, and she ran down the rest of the stairs. "Ivy? Are you all right?" The squealing continued. Ginny ran out of the house and across a field of wild flowers to where the squeals were coming from. The small girl was sitting under a giant tree, playing with a doll and laughing hysterically. "Ivy! What on earth are you doing out here?"  
  
The girl looked up at her mother. "Mummy! James just told a very funny joke!"  
  
"James?" Ginny asked nervously, "Who is James, dear?" The girl shook her head in disappointment. "Mummy, James is my best friend! He's right here! He's really funny, and he plays jokes all the time. He is so funny!" Ginny smiled weakly. "Well, why don't you and James come inside for some lemonade, mm?" Ivy nodded eagerly, "Oh yes, lemonade is James' favorite."  
  
Ginny thought about her daughter's imaginary friend as she led her back towards the house. How could she know? She had never told her about her grandfather, and she had certainly never met him. But the way she had talked about him... It seemed as though her daughter was making friends with a ghost... but there was no James Potter ghost! Suddenly realizing they were at the door as Ivy tugged on her mother's shirt, Ginny opened the door and walked with her into the kitchen.  
  
After pouring two glasses of lemonade, she set them on the table for Ivy and James and sat down next to her daughter. Then the girl shrieked with horror. "Mummy! You're sitting on James!" Ginny leapt up with surprise and sighed, "Oh Ivy, er... sorry James," she stammered awkwardly. She then took a new seat across from her daughter and the imaginary person. Ivy sipped her lemonade and stared at her mother thoughtfully and knowingly. "Mummy, have you been crying again?" Ginny looked at her with disbelief; her own daughter was questioning her competence to deal with things only adults could possibly deal with. "No, dear, there was just a bit of dust in the closet Mummy was cleaning out." Not taking this in, Ivy replied, "It's OK to cry, Mummy. That's what you tell me when I'm sad." When Ginny didn't say anything, she continued, "Did you find another picture of Daddy?"  
  
Ginny looked into her daughter's eyes, and knew she wasn't going to win this one, so she sighed. "Yes dear, I did." To her surprise, Ivy laughed. "James says people dwell on things too much. They need to have fun while they can." Ginny thought she would scream. How could she know?! "Well, I will say James is right, Ive, but sometimes its very hard for grown-ups to forget the people they loved... like Daddy." Though she fought hard to blink it back, a tear escaped her eye once more. Ivy was still smiling. "Mummy, I think you need some lemonade too." The small girl slid off her seat, wiped her flaming red hair (that was so identical to her mother's) out of her face and she opened the refrigerator. She lifted the pitcher with difficulty off its shelf and placed it on the table. Then she ran to the cupboard and grasped for the nearest cup. Again she ran, bringing the cup to the table, then struggled to pour the liquid while spilling some on the table. She pushed it over to her mother, and slightly out of breath she said, "Now drink up and you'll feel much better." Ginny smiled at her daughter's remarkable independence, then laughed at the girl's imitation of her grandmother. "All right, sweets," Ginny said, and with small drops of water streaming down her face, she sipped the glass. "Mm, thank you. I feel a lot better."  
  
Not convinced, the girl said, "Mummy? I think you should know something." Ginny started. "Know what?"  
  
"Well... you should know that Daddy still loves you even though he's not here." Ivy bit her lip, not unlike the way her mother did sometimes. Larger tears streamed down Ginny's face. "Oh, sweetheart, I -" But Ivy wasn't finished. "I'm not lying, Mummy. I know he does. James told me that when people go away, they still love the people they left behind." This time Ginny did scream. "How do you know about James?" she demanded of the child. Ivy shrugged, "Well one day, I was walking by the Old Lot, and he said 'Hello' and he introduced himself nice and proper so I thought even though he was a stranger I could still - "  
  
"The Old Lot?" Ginny interrupted. "You met him - by the Old Lot?"  
  
"Yes Mummy, that's what I said. Anyway..."  
  
But Ginny didn't listen to the rest of her daughter's story. The Old Lot. This whole James thing was getting to scare her.  
  
The Old Lot had been empty in Godric's Hollow since the night the Dark Lord had blown the house that once stood there to smithereens. After the Ministry had cleaned it up, not many people went to visit it because of the sadness the air held around the Lot. Though, after their marriage, the Potters decided to move into the area upon Harry's insistence.  
  
"Mummy, have you been listening at all?" Ginny returned to reality and made to apologize, but the girl didn't give her chance. "Mummy, I think we need to visit the Burrow so you can talk to Grammy Weasley and cry a lot and a lot and we all will feel better." Ginny sighed while wiping her face with her sleeve. "Yes, I suppose that could be arranged. But, mind you, you might get bored at the Burrow. There's not much to do there." Ivy shook her wild hair and giggled, "Mummy, not if James can come!"  
  
*  
  
Ginny turned the keys in the ignition and the car came to life. Ivy was behind her, singing an unknown song and kicking the backs of her legs against the seat. Ginny looked at her through the rear-view mirror, and smiled as she backed out of the driveway. So much her daughter reminded her of him, with her brilliant green eyes and the knowledge that shone through them. It was like looking at old photos of her mother-in-law that she had never met.  
  
After about an hour the car was driving up to the old Burrow. Ivy, noticing this, squealed with delight. "Oh, Mummy, hurry up! I can't wait to see Papa Weasley!" Ginny looked up at the house, and, involuntarily, reminiscences came swarming back to her. Her summers as a child, running wild and free through the wildflowers and climbing trees with her older brothers, playing Quidditch with them when she was old enough. Another tear escaped her eye.  
  
That was the thing about being a woman. They always had to be so emotional when walking down memory lane.  
  
Some memories were good ones, and she appreciated remembering the times her twin brother's had bewitched Percy's badge to say 'Pinhead' instead of 'Prefect'. These memories that made her laugh were a lot welcomer than those that made her cry. A particular one of the latter fought into her mind.  
  
They were playing Quidditch one summer; it was her, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie... and Harry. Charlie had brought along a set of Quidditch balls, and hadn't told Mum about it, knowing she wouldn't approve. So they played a pretty normal game of Quidditch, excepting the fact that both teams were three players short of a full lineup. Everything was going good, and no one was hurt. But then she didn't see the Bludger coming. It had knocked the wind out of her, and also off her broom. As she fell, she heard screams and strangled yells of horror. Then there was a swooshing noise telling her someone was pulling a huge dive to try and catch her. Ten feet from the ground, she fell into the arms of her rescuer. Nearly unconscious, she looked up wearily, saw the brilliant eyes, smiled, kissed him in her delirium, and fainted.  
  
Recalling the time when she had awoken, she cringed as she pulled the parking brake. She had been so embarrassed when her brothers had informed, or rather taunted her, about the kiss. Harry had seemed mortified, but whenever he caught her eye, he would smile...  
  
No. She can't think about him. She had a small child in the car. She got out of her seat and pulled open the door behind her. Ivy practically jumped out of the car seat. When she was free of her mother's grasp, she ran up to the house and went inside. Surprised yells told her that Mum was right inside the kitchen. Sighing, Ginny trudged up to the house, wondering what her mother would think of the unexpected, mid afternoon visit.  
  
As she walked into the kitchen, she smelled the smell of the Burrow. So welcoming it was... how she loved the smell of fresh baked cookies... then pleasant memories of nine at the table..... This, she thought, was home. Even without all of the children running around. Then her mother's voice distracted her. "Ginny, dear? Are you feeling all right?" Ginny shook herself out of memory lane, and shook her head. "No, mum, just thought we'd visit. Ive, why don't you go find Papa Weasley, he should be...?"  
  
"Out in the shed," Mrs. Weasley finished. "Still as fascinated with Muggles as ever," she sighed, though she looked proud. "Go on dear, the back door's open." She patted the little girl's back as she ran past them, and turned back to Ginny. "Are... are you sure everything's all right?" Ginny sighed as she sat down, her mother doing the same. "Well, I was cleaning out the closet this morning and..." She broke down. "Oh Mum, I found another picture!" She leaned over and hid her face in her hands. Mum scooted her chair closer and patted her daughter's back. "Oh Ginny, you need to accept it by now. You have Ivy to worry about now, you can't be dwelling -" "On the past, " she finished, "I know. That's what James said." Mum gasped. "James? James who?" Ginny realized what had come tumbling out of her mouth, and she laughed uneasily. "Oh, er, Ivy's imaginary friend. I just met him this afternoon."  
  
"You met him?" Mum whispered. "Ginny, surely you don't believe...?"  
  
"I do, Mum. The way she describes him, he sounds just like..." She hesitated. "Like... Harry's father." Mum clutched her chest with her right hand and ran the fingers of her left through her graying red hair. "Oh!" Mum exclaimed. "But... but could you see him?"  
  
"No, he's imaginary. But I swear, Mum, he's just like James Potter." Mum bit her lip the Weasley Woman Way, and concentrated hard for several moments. Then she started slowly, "Maybe it's a memory." Ginny's face expressed confusion. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean..." Mum paused. "I'm not sure if I'm guessing correctly, but I would say a memory escaped from someone else, and found it's way into Ivy's memories." Ginny now looked horrified. She hadn't exactly had luck with memories in the past, her own or those of others. "Someone... else's... memory?"  
  
"I don't know how it could happen, but it seems quite possible. I never studied much in that area, of Memories, but they seem quite mysterious to me. Of our early childhood, we don't remember much. But what happens to them? Do they just leave your memory, or do they linger back in a corner of your mind, waiting for you to call on them? That's my only guess as to how she would remember James, even though he's been dead for 20 years." Mum's expression became grave. "Is all this what you came to talk about?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Well, I started crying even more when Ivy asked if I had been crying earlier. It sort of gets to you when your own children recognize when you're feeling something you don't want them to notice." Ginny smiled uneasily again. "But she said we should come here and, 'make it all better'" She laughed, and then frowned. "I have been missing him a lot lately."  
  
"Oh, dear, you can't blame yourself, it's really - Wait a second, what am I doing? I should make some tea!" Mum leapt up off her seat and hurriedly busied herself with boiling the water. Thankfully, this gave Ginny time to think. She hadn't really thought it was her fault, she just thought she could have prevented what happened...  
  
*  
  
"Harry, you just have to let it go."  
  
"No, I won't!"  
  
"I can't believe you are taking something like this so seriously... You killed his father, Harry! And his father was a Death Eater!"  
  
"I know, I know. But Malfoy threatened my family, and he's not going to get away with anything anymore. After Lupin..." Harry's face paled at the thought of the old professor. Instead, he looked at the walls around him. "We'll have to put protection charms on the house." He began to examine the walls, in thought of how to go about doing the charm. Ginny sighed. "Really, Harry, you shouldn't take him seriously. He's only trying to scare you and get you to do something rash!"  
  
"And I'm not doing either, now am I?"  
  
"Oh Harry, I know you will! You don't take these sorts of things lightly! You really shouldn't have chosen my brother as your friend, he's a really bad influence with the violent measures he takes."  
  
"If I were never friends with Ron, " Harry said quietly, "Then I wouldn't have met you." Ginny blushed. "Of course you would have, I'm sure-" He silenced her, with his lips. Then he backed away again, looked at her confused face, and said, "Not like that."  
  
*  
  
Ginny let even larger tears roll down her very rosy cheeks. He was never a romantic, but certainly a good kisser...  
  
"There you are, a nice, warm cup will make everything all better." Ginny smiled, remembering Ivy's impression earlier that day, and took a sip of the scalding hot tea. It certainly made her feel warm down her throat, but not in what her heart felt.  
  
*  
  
She was sitting at the kitchen table, and heard a loud crack. When she looked up and saw her father, she got worried. "What are you doing home early, Dad?" Arthur frowned, and his eyes were filled with sorrow. "Go fetch your brothers."  
  
When she returned with Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Ron (all of whom were visiting from their homes), Ginny sat down next to her father. "What is it, Dad?"  
  
"Yeah, Dad, you're scaring us." Ginny turned to see which twin had said it, and it was Fred. It had sounded nothing like the humorous brother she had grown to look up to, but more like a serious, nervous sounding man.  
  
Dad sighed as a tear rolled down his cheek; Ginny had never seen her father cry. She knew everyone must cry at some point of they're adult lives, but she had never witnessed him at it.  
  
"It's Harry." When he didn't continue, Ron shouted, "What about him? Well?!" Dad shook his head. "He's been... he's gone missing...Malfoy-." He stuttered and let out a small, barely noticeable sob, then held his face in his hand.  
  
Everyone in the room was silent. It was surreal. All of time had stopped in Ginny's world; guilt swarmed at her like thousands of bees being aroused out of their hive. He had been telling the truth, and she had left him. She just left him. He was acting crazy, and it frightened her, and she left. It had been a stupid argument, and she could barely remember what about. And it didn't even matter. There was no need to go over in her mind of what she would say when he came begging for her to come back, for she would never have the chance to see him again. Ever. He was gone, she knew it; after all he had given to the world. Joy. Happiness. Relief. A hero.  
  
*  
  
"Ginny, you're really out of it today. Have you heard a thing I've been saying?"  
  
She awoke from her daze and found herself drenched in tears. Mum sighed and patted her on the back. "There, there, better out than keeping it held in."  
  
"Sorry, Mum. I was just thinking."  
  
"About what, dear?"  
  
"Things." Mum smiled weakly. "That's always a good sign." She looked at the Weasley clock. "Ivy will be coming up the lawn. She'll probably want something to drink." She stood and busied herself once again with fixing drinks.  
  
Sure enough, in a minute's time, Ivy came hurling into the house and into her mother's lap. "Are you feeling better, Mummy?" Ginny laughed. "Yes, dear." Ivy giggled, "Good, because James said when we get home he wants to speak with you." Ginny glanced to her right to see Mum looking nervously at the child. Then Dad came in the back door. By the looks of it, he had been running up with the small girl, but had become winded half way up. "That girl's got a lot of energy, Gin" he laughed, "Must get it from you. You were always the one to be running about." Ginny smiled, "Well, her father was quite the ball of energy when it came to Quidditch, don't you remember?" Her lip trembled as she said this, but she was determined not to cry in front of Ivy. Dad sighed, "Yes, that he was, that he was..." He faded off, then looked round at Mum. "That lemonade looks good, Molly!"  
  
When the runners had been refreshed, Ivy bid her grandparents goodbye, and ran out to the car. Ginny raced a bit of the way, but lagged behind to talk to Mum. "Er, thanks Mum, for... talking with me." She smiled awkwardly as she said this, as they had barely talked but shared tears. Mum smiled nonetheless. "Anything, dear. If you ever need to talk, Dad's got a fellytone-"  
  
"Telephone, Mum." Ginny shook her head. "Honestly, Hermione would correct Ron every time, and here you are making the same mistake." Mum shook her head as though it made no difference as to what the Muggle object was called. "Well, at any rate, he's got one and would probably be overjoyed if you called him on it. Though I still prefer the owl way..." They hugged and parted with a wave of hands, and then Ginny walked to the car.  
  
"What took you, Mummy?"  
  
"Just saying goodbye to Grammy, dear."  
  
"Oh 'cos James says he really, really wants to talk to you." Ginny laughed nervously, "Alright dear, alright"  
  
The car ride was fairly quiet; Ivy had fallen asleep nearly ten minutes into it. When they pulled into their driveway, she parked the car, and climbed out to wake Ivy. The girl's doll had fallen out as she opened the door, so she picked it up and put it safely back into the girl's arms. Then Ginny felt a presence of some sort. It was quite odd, and she was beginning to feel very crazy. Harry, she thought. That's what it feels like. She laughed at herself. Of course it wasn't Harry. No one had seen him for six years, after all. But it was as though he was there, and she couldn't help thinking that he was.  
  
"C'mon, sweetheart, we're home."  
  
"WHERE'S MY DOLL?!" Ivy screeched as she awoke. Relief crossed her rosy cheeks as she noticed the doll in her arms. "Oh, right here." Ginny still looked highly frightened. "Why did you scream like that, Ivy?"  
  
"Well, when I thought I was not holding it anymore, I got scared and thought I had lost it." Ginny thought about the doll and examined it. "Ive, where did you get that doll?" The doll looked quite dirty, and patches of hair were missing. The age of the doll she could only guess was very old. "I already told you, Mummy, at the Old Lot!"  
  
**TBC** 


	2. The Visitor

Chapter Two: The Visitor  
  
"What - what did you say?" she asked nervously, perhaps even not wanting to know the answer. The daughter sighed. "Honestly, Mum. You need to get your ears checked. I said I found the doll in the Old Lot." Ginny couldn't help but notice her own breathing become shallow and hoarse. Licking her lips, she asked, "Dear, what all exactly happened at the Old Lot?" Ivy huffed. "Fine, Mummy. But only one more time."  
  
"This morning, I was walking down the cul-de-sac, and I saw leaves blowing over something. So naturally I walked over to see what it was. As I bent down, the wind blew in my face, and I couldn't exactly see where it had gone. I felt around, picked it up, and the wind stopped. It was quite strange. Anyway, that was when I met James. What is it, Mummy?"  
  
Ginny relieved her lungs of hot air as she began to breathe again. She didn't even realize she had stopped... "I'm alright, dear, please continue."  
  
"Well, I saw James a little ways away and decided to see why exactly he was standing there. So I said, 'What is your name?' He smiled and said, 'Hello, my name is James. But you can call me Prongs.'  
  
"I preferred James, it seemed more proper. So then I - What now, Mummy?" Ginny shook her head and wiped her cheek. "Nothing. Continue."  
  
"Anyway, I then asked him if he had a daughter, who may have lost or misplaced the doll. He shook his head then, and he said 'No, but I had a son.' I asked what happened to the son, and he said, 'Well, you see, he was very little when his mother and I had to leave him.' I then scolded him for leaving his son, because every child needs a mummy and daddy. But then he said, 'Do you have a father?' I said yes, but I didn't know where he was; that you, Mummy, hadn't told me where exactly he had gone.  
  
"'Would you like to play?' he said, and of course, how could I decline a playmate when so rarely does one make itself available?" Ivy giggled. "I heard Uncle Fred say that once.  
  
"So I invited him to play with me in our yard, and we were having good fun when you came out and found me." Ginny waited for more, and when none came, she said, "Is that all?"  
  
"That's all." Ginny looked down for a moment, and then decided, "It's time for bed. We've had quite a day." Ivy shook her head. "No Mummy, you've had a day."  
  
"Well, in any case, it's time for bed. C'mon, up you get" She patted the girl's back as Ivy led the way up the stairs.  
  
While Ivy was changing into her pajamas, Ginny saw the doll on the night table. "Ivy, do you think Mummy could borrow that tonight?" Ivy finished pulling the nightshirt over her head and looked to where her mother was pointing. "Mummy, why do you need my doll? I was going to sleep with it."  
  
"Well, sweetheart, I just need to take a look at it tonight, and when I'm done I'll slip back in here while you're sleeping, give it to you, and you'll never know I was here." "Alright Mummy, just this once, and then it's my turn." Ginny walked silently over to the doll; almost fearful of what might happen when she touched it. She closed her fingers around it slowly and picked up the demented looking doll.  
  
Again, she felt it.  
  
Harry.  
  
"Alright dear, let's tuck you in."  
  
Closing the door gently behind her, Ginny tiptoed back to her own bedroom. Upon entering a dark room, with a wave of her wand the lights came on. She plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs Indian-style. Then she held up the doll once more to examine it. She didn't understand; why did she feel Harry if it was supposed to be James? And she believed her mother was right; it has something to do with memories.  
  
Taking her wand with her right hand and the doll in her left, she whispered, Archetypus abhinc. The doll was lifted out of her hands and it lay still in the air for several seconds before it fell to the comforter, and four numbers appeared in mid air; 1 9 7 9.  
  
Once again, Ginny resumed breathing after she noticed she had stopped. So it is James, she thought. But why...? She still didn't understand how Harry could be related to all of this. And how could Ivy see him? You can't see memories; why, wouldn't you just remember them? Then she recalled her first year at Hogwarts... After that, anything could be possible. Becoming too tired to search for the meaning anymore, she tiptoed back to Ivy's room and slipped the doll back into the girl's arms, as she had promised. She didn't wake, but snuggled with the doll.  
  
Her bed was cold against her skin. Tightly she wrapped the blankets around her, in hopes as to warm them up. It wasn't ever cold when he was here.  
  
She doubted any possibilities that Harry was still alive. After all, he had been missing for years, and you'd think a pregnant wife would be a reason to come home. But no, he hadn't returned. Year after year, Ginny would just imagine him walking in through the door, yelling up the stairs in a mock television sitcom - husband - voice: "Honey! I'm home!"  
  
Lately, though, she'd been able to face the fact that Harry was most likely never coming back because he was... he was dea -.  
  
She was unable to state the fact clearly, but in her heart she felt that he could never come back nor could he be replaced.  
  
*  
  
A groggy Ginny made her way down the stairs on a quest to fix breakfast. But she was only to find her daughter already fixing scrambled eggs in a frying pan.  
  
"Ivy! What in the blazes are you doing?!"  
  
"Fixing you breakfast, Mummy."  
  
"Who told you that you were allowed to turn the stove on without Mummy?"  
  
"James."  
  
"Well is James the head of this house? No, he is not! Get down off of that chair this instant!" Ivy obeyed without a word and shuffled over to the kitchen table, looking suspiciously at her mother. "I'll finish," Ginny told her. She walked over to the eggs that were sizzling in their pan, and noticed that they weren't burnt and looked just the way her mother's did. How odd, she thought. I've never taught Ivy how to fix eggs before.  
  
As she brought two plates and the pan to the table, she saw Ivy fiddling with the doll, a look of shame on her face. Her mood softened. "Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry for yelling at you. Mummy didn't get much sleep last -"  
  
"I did them wrong, didn't I?"  
  
Ginny was stunned at her daughter's interruption. "No! No, not at all! They were actually very well done..." Ginny scooped some eggs onto a plate for her daughter. "Where did you learn how to make eggs?" Ivy avoided her mother's eyes and mumbled a word. "What did you say, dear? I didn't hear you."  
  
"James," Ivy replied, only slightly louder than she had said before. "Ah," Ginny said, though for the first time during a conversation about the character, with a smile on her face. "I suppose he was a lot of help?" Ivy nodded eagerly, shame forgotten. "Yes, he absolutely was. I wanted to make something other than cereal for breakfast; I don't really like it. So I asked him what he knew how to make." Ivy went on to tell her little tale of how her morning had started as Ginny listened with amusement at her daughter's widening vocabulary. "And James said it was very intellectual of me to suggest shredded cheese..." How very intellectual, indeed, Ginny thought, laughing inside.  
  
While washing the dishes, Ginny glanced out the window. It was a very nice day for the park. The sun was shining so bright that candles on the sill were softening up a bit, and the trees moved slightly, indicating a pleasant breeze. "Say Ivy, how would you like to walk to the park today?" A squeal emanated from the living room, and Ginny smiled. "We'll be leaving when I'm finished washing up, so get ready to go."  
  
Collecting her purse and keys, Ginny led the small girl out of the house, who couldn't wait for her mother to lock up the house and ran out to the end of the driveway. "C'mon, Mummy! James is going to beat us in the race!" Shoving the keys back into her purse, she jogged out to where Ivy was standing. "You can run along ahead of me, but don't go off to where I can't see you." Even before Ginny was finished speaking, the girl was running at top speed towards where she assumed James was running.  
  
Keeping her pace quick, she took a look at her surroundings. The leaves were changing colors, colors of red and gold. Her neighbor's burning bushes were bright red now, elegantly swaying in the breeze. She came to the hill that sloped right down to the playground at the park, and noticed Ivy was running with immense momentum. "Be careful!" she called, though she doubted the warning was heard. Not able to walk correctly any longer, Ginny began to jog down the hill to catch up.  
  
It felt good to run like that again. She felt like a child once more, and it was a great feeling. Wild, free, senseless...  
  
She sat down on a park bench nearby the jungle gym to watch her daughter play with the invisible figure that was James. As she became lost in her own thoughts of childhood, her daughter suddenly appeared in front of her. "What is it, Ive?"  
  
"Last night - I forgot - James wanted to talk to you." Ginny too remembered this, and at once she became anxious and afraid. "That's right; he did, didn't he? Where is he now?" Ivy giggled. "He's sitting right beside you, Mum." Ginny violently threw her head in the direction her daughter was pointing, and saw nothing.  
  
"So he is," she smiled. "Go off and play while I chat with James."  
  
She watched Ivy run off to play with another child on the jungle gym, and turned awkwardly to the space next to her. "Er, good evening," she mumbled, barely audible to her own ear. No mystery person appeared. The breeze only tickled her cheeks and played with her hair, and perhaps smiled at her, but no person called James appeared. She sighed, almost with relief that he didn't.  
  
Ivy was quite tired by the time lunchtime arrived, but still she held an argument to stay at the park all day.  
  
"Please, Mummy, just ten more minutes!"  
  
"I'm sorry Ive, but we should really go back to eat lunch. Next time we can picnic our lunches and eat here."  
  
"Oh all right," Ivy gave in, as though she had had a chance of winning.  
  
They walked up the hill quietly until Ivy popped a question on her mother. "So, Mummy, what did you talk to James about?" Ginny wasn't prepared to answer this, for she really didn't have one; she hadn't talked to the James thing at all. "Well, dear, er, James said he would tell me about it later... er, tonight."  
  
"Really?" Ivy said skeptically. "He seemed so anxious earlier..."  
  
"I'll race you," Ginny said, eager to come off the topic. Ivy looked up at her enthusiastically. "Yeah!"  
  
"Last one to the door is a flobberworm!" Ivy paused as her mother took off. "Flobberworm?" She barely paused to think as she noticed her mother was getting awfully close to the house, and so she shrugged it off and ran with all her might.  
  
*  
  
The day went on as such, with two fiery loads of crackling energy. Games they played were numerous, and Ginny soon lost track of the time. But the lengths of days were shortening, and the setting sun reminded her there was such a thing as time.  
  
"Ivy, you need to take a bath, and then it's time for bed."  
  
"But Mummy, I'm not t - t - tired." She attempted to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably. Ginny smiled, "I know." Together they walked up the stairs and as Ivy went to her room to fetch nightclothes, Ginny began to run the water in the tub. The door behind her creaked open, and she got up off her knees to help Ivy undress.  
  
"You're arms are quite dirty," Ginny pointed out as she began to scrub down the grubby child. "You must have been crawling around in the dirt or something." Ivy only smiled, and said nothing.  
  
When at last the over exhausted child was sleeping peacefully in her bed, Ginny headed back to her bedroom, once again with the doll. She got out her wand and levitated it to her night table. She sat on the edge of the bed to think. Really, there was nothing that had taught her how to extricate memories from an inanimate object. It wasn't very common to preserve them in the first place. Most people wouldn't know they had to, or be so desperate as to keep part of them on earth. When her thoughts led her nowhere, she picked up the doll again and quietly walked down the stairs.  
  
She put the kettle on, and waited as the water bubbled more and more. She poured some of the water into a small cup and added a teabag, then sat at the table. The lights were dim, and the doll gave her an eerie sense of another person in the room. Maybe there is, she thought.  
  
But why can I feel it?  
  
Absently stirring her tea bag around, she stared at the doll. It wasn't much bigger than her hand, and if it was made in 1979, its condition couldn't really be questioned. She picked it up and a huge wind blew through her hair. She desperately looked around at all of the windows, to see if any were open. All were shut tightly. She looked at the doll again, and it looked the same as it had a few seconds ago. Of course it would, she thought. Why would it change?  
  
Another part of her mind told her, because you want it to.  
  
Did she want a James figure to appear? She wasn't sure. Sure, she wanted to know why her daughter was talking to a seemingly imaginary figure that sounded exactly like her husband's father, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to... talk to it.  
  
"What are you about, James?" she said to the doll. "What do you want with my daughter?"  
  
"Nothing, really, she only needed a friend."  
  
Ginny quickly stood up and around to see where the voice had come from.  
  
She gasped.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
)A(N)(  
  
Ok, so I'm really obsessed with cliffs... they're just so fun! And it's kind of and easy way to wrap up a chap. Haha I can rhyme. All right, really frightened, you are? Get used to it.  
  
I don't know how long this one will end up being, but I have a whole plot lined up in my head already. I'm thinking up to ten chapters... but don't get yawl's hopes up, it's only a guesstimate. Erm... there was something else... oh yes; of course. MORE REVIEWS. PLEASE. I think I'm becoming obsessed with those too. When an author gets reviews, it sorta lets them know that people are actually reading they're stuff, in addition to telling them what they need to work on.  
  
Ok I guess I'll leave you to that REVIEWING.... 


	3. The Return to Grimmauld Place

"Harry?" Ginny breathed. "What... who...?"  
  
The apparition chuckled. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to that. No, I'm not Harry. I'm James. Well, a memory of James." Ginny smiled nervously. "Right... James... how on earth...?"  
  
"I'm terribly sorry to have to bring this up, but it may help you understand better. Do you remember Tom Riddle's diary from your first year?"  
  
How did he know? Ginny thought. "Yes," she said, her mouth becoming extremely dry. "Well," James continued, "this is similar, but not exactly how that was. I'm transparent, as he was not." Ginny examined the ghostly figure. Sure enough, she could see the bathroom door right through him. He wasn't pearly white, as the ghosts at Hogwarts were, but rather a light shade of blue-gray, distorting objects behind him. "Right," Ginny mumbled. "So... what are you doing here? I mean, how are you here? How did Ivy find you? And why is it -"  
  
"Slow down, slow down. You want to know everything at once, but I'm not sure that would do you any good. At least my Lily found that out on occasion." He smiled. "Well, your first question; I am here because my son found me before he was taken. The doll in which I preserved myself activates itself when touched by a blood-relative of myself. This is why when you touch it I do not automatically emerge. With me so far?" Ginny paused. "I suppose... but whenever I did touch it, I felt Harry, which is why I assumed you were him. Along with your identical features." James laughed again. "You're lucky to have such an intelligent husband, Ginny."  
  
"Why?" Ginny asked, being thrown off by his last comment. "Well, for one thing, having a dolt for a husband wouldn't be so useful, would it? But most importantly, he made sure part of him was preserved in the doll also."  
  
Ginny paused, trying to think of a way to word her next question. "Part of him... do you mean a part of his memory?"  
  
"Yes, and no." James was silent while contemplating his explanation. "Harry made it possible for himself to be found." To be found? What did he mean by that?  
  
"What do you mean, to be found? Is Harry still alive?"  
  
"Harry is in a place where neither death nor life could be desired. Pain can cause the mind to be unsure of what it wants." James looked at Ginny, expecting more questions. But Ginny remained in thoughtful silence, so he waited patiently.  
  
Suddenly Ginny reached a decision. "So I could find him, by using that doll?" She pointed to it, where it still lay on the table. James frowned. "The doll on its own will not tell you where he is." Ginny became annoyed with the doll unexpectedly. "Well then what's the use of having it? You don't seem to want to help me at all!"  
  
"There is only so little that I can tell you. I am not some sort of omniscient deity that can solve anything, as much as I like to think I am," he laughed to himself. Ginny did not see James laughing; she saw Harry laughing. "But." Ginny started, "there must be a way."  
  
"There is a way, if you choose to look for it." James stood up and straightened himself out. "I think I will leave you here now, as I have relayed all the information I possess to you." Ginny looked desperately at him. "But you must know where he is! You said yourself he is in pain! How can you leave now? I have to find him!"  
  
"And you will, Ginny," James replied sincerely. "You love him, and your mutual love will guide you to him." His eyes strayed to the doll. "I must go now." The form of James slowly faded away, as though he was being sucked into the doll. "No, please don't go!" Ginny cried desperately. Then silently she cursed herself for being loud; Ivy was asleep upstairs.  
  
Her attention returned to the doll and she picked it up. A sudden jolt was sent through her body, and she dropped it as though it had burned her. Angrily she kicked it across the floor. She collapsed into her chair and longed to scream in her anger. Angry tears escaped her eyes, and dampened her cheeks.  
  
As though she had wished it, an invisible hand wiped them away. Ginny gasped in horror. She really needed sleep.  
  
*  
  
Sleep had not rescued her from the madness of the happenings that evening. Only did she toss and turn with nightmares of what Harry could possibly be going through. Neither death nor life could be desired. These words of James echoed in her head.  
  
In the morning, Ivy was not fixing breakfast, but patiently waiting for her mother to make an appearance in the kitchen. "Morning," she said.  
  
"Good morning dear. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"I had a nightmare, but you weren't in your bed, so I just went back to sleep." Ginny regretted her absence. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I was... well, do you want to talk about your dream?"  
  
"No, it's alright... I hardly remember what it was about now!" Ivy giggled, "I guess that's a good thing." Ginny smiled, then had an idea. "Ive, what would you say we went to visit Aunt Hermione's house?" Ivy squealed with delight. "Ooh! Yes Mummy! Auntie Hermione's house is so... so magical."  
  
Ginny lifted the pot of Floo Powder from its place in the corner of the hearth and grabbed up some of the dust. "Now, do you remember how to go into the fireplace, and everything?" Ivy rolled her eyes, "Yes, Mum, I've only been flooing for a year now. Honestly." Ivy grabbed up some of the fine green particles and threw it into the flames. As the brilliant green flames swirled and danced before her eyes, she stepped into them and shouted, "12 Grimmauld Place!"  
  
*  
  
As Ginny stumbled out of the grate, she noticed her daughter, safe and sound, sitting on the sofa next to Hermione, who was chatting quite animatedly with the little girl.  
  
"You have grown at least an inch since I last saw you, I swear it... Ginny! We weren't expecting this welcome visit!" Hermione moved to hug Ginny, and as doing so she whispered, "Everything alright?" Ginny shushed her, indicating that they would talk about it later. "Where's Ron?" Ginny said loudly, so as to distract Ivy from the private conversation.  
  
"He's upstairs. He might be doing laundry, but I doubt it. Usually, conveniently, finds something in a moving box and claims he absolutely had to look into it." She rolled her eyes at her husband's nonsense, but smiled nonetheless. "You might be able to find him, Ivy. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." Ivy was already running up the stairs.  
  
Hermione motioned for them to have a seat at the kitchen table, which was neat with a tall flower arrangement in the center. Simple placemats completed each table setting. "Would you like something to drink, Ginny? There's lemonade, juice, water, coffee... I could go on."  
  
"Water's fine," Ginny replied, not really interested in a beverage right now. "Er, Hermione, I was meaning to talk to you about something important by coming here," she said as Hermione placed two glasses of water on the table. "Something happened last night."  
  
"What's happened? Is everything alright?"  
  
"Yes everything's fine and normal... well, fine in any case. Last night, I met James." Hermione sipped her water with interest. "And who might this James be?" She smiled.  
  
"Er, that's the thing, he's Harry's father." Hermione gulped loudly and almost sprayed her drink at the flowers. "Ginny, are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Fine, but Hermione, I'm not joking. Ivy had found this doll at the Old Lot, and I've found out it contained James' memory." Hermione stared at her with awe. "When did all this happen?"  
  
"Ivy found the doll two days ago, and I was getting a bit frustrated with the whole matter last night. See, Ivy had been talking to James, as though he were some imaginary friend. But he sounded so real, like the real James Potter. But I knew that couldn't be so, and I sort of went along with it. I visited Mum that day; I had been going through some old things..." Ginny went silent for a moment, and Hermione put an understanding hand on hers. "Anyway, that's not the point. It's when we were leaving that Ivy said James wanted to talk to me.  
  
"So I sort of forgot about it until Ivy reminded me when we were at the park. We got home and spent the rest of the day goofing off and having a fun, free day, you know? But when I put her to bed, I got to analyzing the doll somehow, and er... started talking to it," Ginny blushed slightly going over how silly she had been acting, "But then... he just appeared, behind me. I could talk to him." The whole time Ginny had been talking kind of fast, still amazed at all the facts, and she waited to hear what Hermione had to say about all of it.  
  
"Well?" Ginny looked up as Hermione spoke. "What did he say?" Ginny remembered most of what James said, and spoke of it with a 'he said, I said' sort of dialogue. As she talked, Hermione grew steadily white. When she finished, all Hermione could manage to say was, "He's alive..."  
  
"Well, from what James said, he's being tortured or something. The only person who keeps coming to mind if Malfoy." Hermione looked at her, stunned. "I mean," Ginny continued, "he was supposedly the one behind it all, but he's been missing the same time Harry has." Ginny nearly choked on the name.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes in concentration for several quiet seconds, then sighed hopelessly. "There are nearly a dozen places, or more, that they could be." Ginny nodded, "I know, that's why I was so angry that James went away like that."  
  
"Who's James?" Ron had just appeared in the doorway, Ivy in his arms. "James is my friend, Uncle Ronnie." Ron cringed at his title, then theatrically whispered, "Uncle Ron, Ive, or even just Ron. Not Ronnie." Ivy giggled, "But Uncle Fred and Uncle George said you liked to be called that!"  
  
"They did, did they? Well, I should have you know that they like to be called Uncle Freddie and Uncle Georgina." Ivy giggled helplessly and wriggled out of his grasp. She ran over to Hermione and plopped down on her lap, causing Hermione to give a faint "oof".  
  
"What are you feeding this child, Gin?"  
  
"Food," Ginny laughed. She turned to Ivy, "Can you get Mummy some more water, please?" Ivy obliged and took the glass across the kitchen, having difficulty reaching the faucet. Hermione got up to help, but first gave Ron a look that said, 'Ginny has something important to tell you so go and sit down by her. Now!' (Hermione gives complex looks.)  
  
Following his wife's silent instructions Ron walked over to Hermione's vacated seat. Ginny explained everything in hushed whispers while Hermione dawdled with Ivy at the sink. When she finished, Ron was equally pale, as Hermione had become.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's all true," Ginny replied, starting to get choked up on relaying the information a second time. "I just hate to think what they're doing to him, whoever 'they' is." Tears wrestled their way out of her eyes. "Oh Ginny, don't cry. We're going to find him. That bastard Malfoy will wish he'd never been born."  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Well, it's true. When I get my hands on him..." Ron seemed to be fantasizing about his coming opportunity to strangle Malfoy until he choked to death, or at least that's what Ginny gathered from his hands holding what she assumed was an invisible neck. When Hermione had finally finished retrieving the glass of water, she led Ivy back to the table.  
  
When Ron looked at Hermione and didn't receive a nice look, he sighed loudly and sat back in his chair. "What did I do now?"  
  
"I just had to explain to Ivy what a b - a - s - t - a - r - d is," she replied heatedly. "I ended up saying it was Malfoy's first name." Ron couldn't help but crack up in wicked laughter, at least until Hermione gave him a look that would frighten a dragon. He coughed hurriedly to cover up remaining sniggers.  
  
"I guess it might as well be," he managed to choke out before earning a slap on the head by Hermione. While rubbing his head in hopes of getting sympathy from his sister, he asked, "So, what is all this supposed to mean? I mean, how are we going to find him?"  
  
"It must have something to do with Voldemort's old Death Eaters, the ones that haven't given up their fight for evil."  
  
"Obviously, if Malfoy's involved. C'mon, Gin, you're usually one to look past the basics." Ron gave his sister a disappointed look. Promptly Ginny came back with an evil glare that caused Ron to unconsciously back up. "There is a possibility that Malfoy wasn't joining Death Eater forces, and could just be up to something out of pure hatred." Her face softened almost unnoticeably, but Ron must have noticed and sat regularly again.  
  
"Though," Ginny continued, "I must say I do agree. It is pretty much decided that Malfoy is using Death Eaters to do the job of torturing... him." The phrase, 'torturing Harry' could barely be thought in her mind, let alone spoken out loud. "Malfoy was never one to do the dirty work himself."  
  
"No, he always got - ruddy - Crabbe and Goyle to do everything for-"  
  
"Ronald Weasley! Will you let me speak, please?"  
  
"Sorry." Ginny gave him a look for a moment longer, then spoke openly again to the two of them. "As I was trying to say, Malfoy won't pull something like this together on his own. He'll get anyone but himself to take care of things." She paused to think, "And anyone could include any person, or any creature."  
  
Suddenly Ivy's voice came from the floor near them, "When you say Malfoy, do you mean Bas-"  
  
"YES, dear," Ginny said hurriedly, "We do."  
  
She glared at Ron and paused to let the effect of her words take hold of him and Hermione, as Ivy continued to talk to her doll across the room. Then Hermione readjusted in her seat and said, "I think that's the only possible thing it could be. I mean, who else would be torturing Harry? Voldemort has been dead for years, surely it couldn't be him-"  
  
"We can only hope," Ron said miserably through his hands. He was resting his chin on his hands, which were on the table. Hermione snorted, "Don't be ridiculous, Ron. Of course he's dead. He has to be. We all saw it when it happened." Hermione shuddered. "Anyway, Ginny, I think we should all go to look for him."  
  
Ginny looked up, startled. "Oh no, Hermione, I'm not going to drag you into this-"  
  
"Ginny, hate to break it to you, but you already have." Ron had sat up and was talking sincerely to her. "If there's a chance my best mate is alive..." At this point Ron's eyes became glossy, "Then there's no way," he toned down his voice for prevention of little ears hearing him, "in hell that you can make me stay behind while you go by yourself to rescue him."  
  
Hermione beamed up at Ginny. "Definitely, that goes for both of us." Her eyes too developed tears. "We loved Harry, too, we all did." Her lip trembled and collapsed into Ginny's arms, and the two embraced each other through the tears. Ron shook his head in mock disgust. "Women," he said, wiping a tear from his cheek. ~~~~~  
  
A/N: Aww, yes, Ron's becoming a little old softy, isn't he? Well, not such a cliffhanger this time. I've had a bit of writer's block lately; so don't be mad at me for taking a while in updating. Anyway, I thought this was a suitable place to end this chapter, so it will have to do until number 4! 


	4. The Plan

The Old Lot, Chapter Four  
  
The Plan  
  
The cell was eerily quiet. Movement was not possible while his arms were chained above him to the hard, cold stone wall.  
  
The taste of blood lingered in his mouth, but he didn't care anymore. Years in this place had told him to get used to it; it would never get better. Not as long as painful thoughts wandered aimlessly through his head.  
  
Where was Ginny?  
  
Was she OK?  
  
Did she have our child safely?  
  
Had she gotten over me and married someone else?  
  
Harry never stopped thinking about Ginny. She had been the light of his life, his world. Love wasn't something one could forget too easily. And Ron and Hermione . . . how he had loved the two of them; He missed them so much.  
  
But never as much a Ginny.  
  
A shadowy mist took over the cell, and Harry's vision blurred. Though his vision was always blurred, without his glasses, it was even more difficult to see than usual. Then he heard a lock click some feet away, in front of him.  
  
Damn.  
  
The large, heavy wooden door swung open, and two figures, one much larger than the other, entered the room. Harry had no idea what they looked like, but who else would be coming here? Surely not visitors with get well cards.  
  
"So, Potter, how was your Christmas? That was the last time I saw you, wasn't it?" Harry groaned. The smaller figure laughed cruelly. "Yes, it was. But you can't have missed the smell of cooking, or baking cookies. You won't have remembered what those wonderful things were like."  
  
"How kind of you to remind me," Harry replied with gritted teeth.  
  
"What was that Potter? I didn't catch your gibberish." Harry didn't answer. He didn't feel like it. "I said," the small figure drew back his arm and thrust it at his cheek. There was a loud crack, and blood seeping into the corners of his mouth told him the whip had created a long cut across his cheek. "What was that Potter?"  
  
"I said," Harry spit blood out of his mouth, surprisingly right into the figure's face, "'how kind of you to remind me'." The figure's anger was tangible and Harry closed his eyes, bearing down for anything. Sure enough, the figure shouted, "Crucio!" and Harry felt extreme pain surge through his already weak body. Normally, he would be able to fight all of it, but right now he was too exhausted and caught almost all of the pain. Finally, when he released a cry of agony, the figure lowered his wand, also lowering the curse. Then he laughed audaciously. "Had enough, Potter? Don't worry, I'll come to visit again." He turned to the silent, bulky figure, "Come Goyle, we're finished here for today."  
  
*  
  
Harry flexed his hands. With every movement new pain coursed through his veins, and he made silent moans, almost as if to prove it to himself. He opened his tired eyes, and almost passed out. But a new figure approaching him instead caused him to blink. "Sirius, what are you doing here? You're... you died, in fifth year. You're not supposed to be here." The ghastly figure laughed silently, but Harry could almost hear the bark like laugh.  
  
Almost immediately after it laughed, another apparition came into view. "Dad... you're... I must be... Lupin?" The mild man nodded with a slight smile. Then the second man, remarkably similar in appearance to Harry, glided smoothly toward him.  
  
When within a few feet, the man began to whisper something that Harry could not hear. "Dad, I can't... I can't hear... you're speaking too softly..."  
  
"Don't tire yourself son. Don't give up." Harry heard these words inside his head, as though he were the one who was thinking them. But he couldn't have.....Why would he have...  
  
"Dad... Sirius... Lupin... You must go... they're here... they'll see you..."  
  
As Harry drifted into an uneasy sleep, dreams of voices inside his head, the cell remained quite empty.  
  
*  
  
As Ginny made the morning coffee she heard movement from the stairs. She turned to see who it was and smiled, "Good morning, Uncle Ronnie."  
  
Ron, his hair tousled and his eyes still slightly closed with sleep, jolted to awareness and scowled at his sister. "Blast it Ginny, need I remind you of my real name, as well as remind your daughter?" Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, Ron. Couldn't resist. After all, you sort of look like an Uncle Ronnie at the moment; have you looked in the mirror?"  
  
"Yeah, and it told me to 'get on and wash up my face, you dirty young man', just like every morning. Honestly, they're freckles." He rubbed his cheek irritated. "I think I might have to curse them off my face one of these days."  
  
"Oh no you don't, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said behind him. Ron turned around. "That's right, you're not getting rid of the one thing I actually like about you." Ron frowned, hurt, and Hermione laughed. "Oh, you're absolutely ridiculous. Of course I love every bit of you, you great git." She stood next to him and kissed him smack dab on the lips.  
  
Ginny groaned, "Please, you're niece will be down any moment and she doesn't need to witness any R-rated scenes in the near future, especially ones including her godparents." Hermione pulled away from Ron, who was as always red in the face, and smiled. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.  
  
"Gor-mowng..." Ron coughed loudly. "So, Gin, what's for brecky?"  
  
"I dunno, you tell me. I'm not going to fix breakfast for you every morning. Neither are you, Hermione." Hermione had just begun to get up from her seat when she sat back down again. "Ginny's right, Ron, it's your turn to cook."  
  
Ron looked at them appalled. "Me? Do you remember what happened the last time Mum made Harry and me cook? Well, do you?"  
  
Ginny coughed and turned away. "Well I suppose you're right. Maybe you can just break the eggs then. In a bowl this time, though." She stood and conjured a few more than half a dozen eggs, carefully lowering them onto a thick placemat. Summoning a large bowl from the cupboard, she turned to Ron. "Now, just crack them gently in the middle, and mind you don't drop any shell in."  
  
Ron moved resignedly to the bowl and got cracking. Meanwhile, Ginny started the stove to medium and placed a large frying pan in the surface. "Hermione, would you mind setting the table for the four of us?"  
  
"Not at all," she replied, and she got up to find cups, silverware and tableware.  
  
When all three adults were busied with their tasks of preparing breakfast, a small, dishevel haired girl staggered in, rubbing her eyes. Ron, who was eager to get out of his particularly boring assignment, was first to notice her arrival and jumped to twirl her in the air. "Morning, sleepyhead!"  
  
Ivy's giggles were muffled into his shoulder, but the women still noticed. Even though she was annoyed with her brother abandoning his duty, Ginny smiled. "He's going to make a great father someday," she murmured to Hermione. The other woman blushed. "I know, but for the time being he's my kid." They laughed, and Ron carried the still giggly girl to the table. "Breakfast will be served in a few minutes, madam." Ivy squealed with laughter as he proceeded to bow low, almost touching his nose to the table. Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Well, it won't be unless these eggs start cracking themselves into their bowl." When her back was turned, Ron made faces at her. Ivy could have possibly stopped breathing in her state of hilarity.  
  
When the scrambled eggs were all served onto plates and brought to the table (Ron had made quite a thing out of it by playing waiter), the adults made conversation while Ivy paid almost no attention while playing with her food. Ginny didn't even notice.  
  
"Well, I think we should write down all probable places, then take it from there." Ron had assumed his chess face, sort of hard and serious, as he suggested ways to go about finding their friend.  
  
"Of course, but as I mentioned last night, there could be so many places that it's going to be impossible to pick one place." Hermione still found it easy to argue with her husband.  
  
"Hermione, we only need to keep track of all of the places so that we can eliminate ones that won't work," Ron explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"And how do you suggest we go about doing that, eh? How are we supposed to know where he is or isn't? If we knew that, he could be home now." Ron started showing signs of irritation, but tried not to explode at his own wife. There could be dire consequences if he did, most prominently not finding Harry.  
  
"I understand that, but there are ways to find simple reasons why a place would not be possible. Even though you still clearly don't agree with me," he added hurriedly as Hermione opened her mouth to speak, "I think we need to try it. Trust me." Ginny gathered parchment, ink and quill from the desk across the room, and she paused her hand on the paper, prepared to write.  
  
"Ok, let's just start brainstorming a few places," Ron said. "Even if someone doesn't agree, we still put it down. It's only brainstorming, and we need to think of all potential locations." He thought for a moment, then spoke again, "Malfoy Manor."  
  
"Ron that place has been searched so many times-"  
  
"I know Hermione, but we have to put everything down." Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, but didn't argue further. "The Riddle House," she said, mildly interested in her comment. Ginny scratched the quill across the parchment, then voiced her own idea, "Azkaban."  
  
Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that place has been abandoned for years." As Ginny wrote this latest one down, the group became silent.  
  
"The Hog's Head." All eyes turned to Ivy. Ron laughed, "Ok, Ginny, put The Hog's Head down." He smiled at the little girl.  
  
Ron then coughed and mumbled a new idea. "Sorry, what was that Ron?" Ginny asked. Ron cleared his throat. "I said, er... Durmstrang." The two women gave him disapproving looks, but Ginny wrote it down nonetheless.  
  
The group fell into silence once again, all most likely considering their ideas before voicing them. Then Hermione finally spoke up, as though she didn't even want it considered. "Hogwarts," she sighed. "Or even the Forbidden Forest, you might as well consider that one separate." Ginny wrote them down in no time.  
  
"Well, now I think we should go over some of these," Ron said, and he grabbed the list from Ginny. "Well, Malfoy Manor has been searched, but who knows how large that place is and how many secret passageways and whatnot they've got there." His face became soft, "In second year, when Harry and I had taken the Polyjuice Potion, Malfoy told us that his father had a secret chamber underneath their drawing room floor." Ron became lost in thought as he remembered the very day him and Harry had become Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Hermione was first to break the becoming silence. "Riddle House should have been searched, too. But Voldemort pulled it off last time, hiding there, so it could be possible that anyone's hiding in there." She paused. "I think he might actually be there."  
  
All faces looked grim, probably mentally slapping themselves. "Well . . . " Ron started, "Azkaban is possible . . . obviously I've never been there, but it's supposed to be huge. Surrounded by water . . ."  
  
"An island, Ron," Hermione said, not looking up. "Yes, an island," Ron said. "No one would suspect an old jail, would they?"  
  
"I don't think so," Ginny said, "The dementors left our side short into the Second War, so they probably hadn't been there much after they left. Obviously there wouldn't be any left there now; they were wiped out by Dumbledore, weren't they?" The other two nodded mutely.  
  
After a while Ron spoke, "My brain hurts."  
  
"Big surprise there," Hermione teased in a mumble. Ron looked at her, a look reserved to say 'I hate you so much I love you.'  
  
"All right, you two," Ginny said. "I think Ivy and I better be getting home." She stood up, and the couple followed suit. "Are you sure, Ginny?" Hermione asked. "You're really welcome to stay here all you like."  
  
Ginny thought it over. "Well, we do have things to work out . . ." She glanced over at Ivy, sitting at the end of the table holding conversation with her doll again. She looked back at Hermione. "It would be a lot easier to get things done . . . Without young ones around." Hermione nodded. "We could ask someone to watch her." She thought for a moment. "Maybe bring her down to the Burrow?"  
  
"Yeah, Mum and Dad would be delighted to have her stay," Ron said. "They always say how they don't get to see her much. I could probably floo with her this afternoon." Ginny considered it. "She's a lot to handle, you know, despite what you may think."  
  
"Yes, but you don't think Mum could handle it after all of us?" Ron looked at her seriously. Ginny blushed, "No, I don't suppose I do. But how long do you think we would be?"  
  
Hermione spoke up before Ron had a chance, "How ever long it will take." Her eyes were a bit glossy, but the strong young woman held her tears. Ginny smiled weakly. "Yes, you're absolutely right. Ivy," She bent down to the girl's level on one knee, "What do you say Uncle Ron takes you over to Grammy Weasley's house for a few days?" Ivy smiled brightly at her. "Oh yes Mummy! That would be wonderful!"  
  
While Ron accompanied Ivy to the Burrow, Ginny and Hermione stayed back and did some things around the house. They started in fixing up a guest bedroom for Ginny.  
  
"What's this?" Ginny held up an extremely stiff . . . well, she didn't know exactly what it was, hence her query. Hermione studied it with wonder. "I have no idea. Toss it in the bin, will you?"  
  
"Gladly," Ginny said with sheer disgust, and she held it with two fingers over the wastebasket (which was already overflowing with garbage) and dropped it in. She clapped the grime off of her hands and placed them on her hips. Overall, the room looked a lot better; the room itself hadn't been too terrible, but the closet was where all of the surprises waited for them.  
  
"Do you think that's all of it?" Ginny asked. Hermione wrinkled up her nose. "I hope so." She looked around and sighed. "We should have waited until Ron got back and made him clean all this up."  
  
Ginny snorted, "Are you mad? He'd scream like a girl and say 'No way you two, you can't make me, ew ew.'" She paused for the effect and the two women started cracking up, both grasping the stitches in their sides, then to each other for support.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ron had just entered the room. "You two look like you've been laughing for an hour." Ginny snorted again, "So what if we have? You were the punch line of the joke, after all." After she had finished saying this she stopped laughing. "Oh Ron, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean that."  
  
Ron, to the other's amazement, chuckled. "It's all right. As long as it wasn't about me being a girl. Again." They couldn't take it. All of them started cracking up again.  
  
Harry could almost hear their laughter in his dreams. 


	5. The Parallel

Once again, a young woman found herself in contact with dust, and it was a lot of dust.  Except on this occasion no sunlight at all shone through this musty old attic.

"Hermione, are you really sure you saw them up here?"

"I'm positive!  And quit complaining, it won't make this task any easier."

"It was only a simple question, 'Mione!"

"Well, I have to say I've had enough of your simple-"

"WILL YOU TWO QUIT IT?"

Silence took over the room.  "That's better," Ginny said exasperatedly.  She began shifting the scrolls once more, and to her surprise and relief found what they all had been searching for, for the past half hour.

"Here it is," she said roughly, and the other two silently made their way to either side of her, so as to take a look at her discovery.

"That's it," Hermione said, pointing at the map.  "It's got all of Europe on there, and you tap your wand on the places you want to see in more detail.  Here," she continued, and she withdrew her wand, tapped the tiny label of _United Kingdom__, _and they watched the piece of parchment.

Almost as though a hand was moving across the map, Europe disappeared as England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland promptly appeared in its place.

"Brilliant," Ron whispered.  "Let's take it down into the kitchen."

The trio coughed their way down the ladder, dusting themselves off as they went.  Ginny, the last to reach the floor, folded it up and it closed off the dark opening of the stained ceiling.  "Glad we're out of there," she said as she coughed. 

Ron nodded, though a few choking coughs cut off his words.  Dizzily they all made it downstairs.  Hermione spread out the map on the kitchen table, and after being rolled up for who knows how long, it lay miraculously flat.  "This is some map," Hermione said, her eyes glittering with excitement.

Ron shook his head, "It's only a map, Hermione.  Well, a magical one, but I don't see the big deal."  Hermione gave him a look of I-know-something-you-don't-know and tapped the map again.  Lengthy paragraphs appeared to ripple across the old parchment.  Ginny read the first one to herself:

_Your journey is a long one.  Lost will be found, yet hardships you will not escape.  What you seek is not the hardship you shall encounter; it is one on its own.  Hardship is a diverse term.  Be wary of the helpful, they too have lost and been lost.  Have faith in the unlikely; they have unlikely answers.  Have faith in yourselves; you shall conquer._

And the rest of the paragraphs had information about the makers of the map, but Ginny didn't go on to read that far.  What could all of that mean?

Apparently Ron was thinking the same thing.  "Hermione, none of that made sense."  Hermione scoffed.  "Of course _you _wouldn't understand it."  Ginny blushed and looked at her feet.  "Well, Hermione . . . you could still answer his question.  After all, er, it was only a question."  Ginny hoped against hope that Hermione wouldn't notice that Ginny was really intent on hearing the answer too. 

"Well," Hermione started, looking at Ginny with a funny look on her face, "It means when we go looking for him, we have to be careful."

"Well why couldn't it just say that?" Ron asked.  "It would have saved space."  Hermione looked ready to throw something back at him (words, of course), but she saw Ginny ready to roll her eyes and decided against it.

"I – I don't know.  Ron."  She seemed like she was struggling to say these words.  She smiled tightly and promptly changed the subject.  "So . . . where do we start?"

"Let's look at our list," Ginny suggested, eager to keep things out of deep water.  "Here, we have Malfoy Manor.  We won't need to go out that way, will we?"  Ron and Hermione shook their heads.  "Okay, I'll cross that one off then."  She did, and then looked at the next one.  "Riddle House."  They all looked at each other.

"Even though I really don't fancy going there," Ron said, visible chills running down his spine, "We have to look anyway.  Do we even know where it is, though?"  Hermione shook her head, "But we can try the map."  She sat down in front of it.  She closed her eyes, waited a few seconds, and tapped the map with her wand.  A wave of new color came over the parchment and it showed a small town, rolling hills almost jumping out at them.

"How do you do that?" Ron asked, extremely irritated. 

_You'd think he would be used to it by now, Ginny thought._

"Wouldn't you like to know," Hermione replied, studying the map.  Ron groaned, "Urgh, yes!  That's precisely why I asked!"

"I found Riddle's house," Hermione said, ignoring Ron.  "It says so in its caption."  Sure enough, they all looked at a large manor, derelict with missing tiles from the roof, boarded windows, and wild tangled ivy covering the brick.  _Riddle House, _the caption said.  When Ron and Hermione began to talk about something, Ginny paid no attention.  Her eyes were following a tiny snake slithering up the lawn of Riddle House.  Nothing else in the map was moving.

The snake lengthened and spelled two words in a loopy, connected cursive.  _Not here._

It winked right at her, and slinked up into the house through a crack in a window.

"Ginny?  Were you listening to a thing I was saying to you?"  Ginny snapped her attention to her brother, who looked annoyed.  Ginny blushed.  "Sorry, no.  But I don't think it is Riddle House."

The other two looked at her, puzzled.  "Why not?" asked Hermione.  "If you'd been listening, Ron and I have been discussing how it seems the ideal place."  Ginny snorted.  "You mean you agreed?"  Hermione blushed this time.

"I'm sorry, Hermione.  I didn't mean that.  It's just . . . well . . . there was a snake, on the map.  It said 'Not here'.  I dunno why, but I think it's telling the truth."  Ginny bit her lip, and waited for them to tell her she was crazy.

"You're crazy, Gin," Ron said.  "What snake are you talking about?  There's no snake in here."  He looked around the floor to prove his point.  Ginny shook her head, and pointed to the map even though the snake was already gone.  "It was on the map.  It slithered back into the house."

"Well of course it did, it's trying to mislead you!" Ron said loudly, then slapped his forehead.  "Now I'm arguing with you about something that _wasn't even there._"  Ron shook his head sadly and looked at his sister.  He sank in his chair.

"Ronald Weasley!  I am not lying to you!  Do you think I would lie about something at a time like this?  I came to you!  I know Harry is alive, and I intend to find him!  We leave in the morning!"  With that Ginny ran up the many staircases to her bedroom to cry in shame of yelling at the only two friends she had, who were trying to help her.

Around six o'clock Ginny smelled the scent of a roast wafting up through the ventilation.  She felt quite hungry, not having eaten since her small breakfast this morning, and so she washed her face of dry tears and looked in the mirror.  _I have to stop crying like this.  We're going to find him!  Cheer up!_

She straightened her cardigan and opened the door slowly.  She tiptoed down the stairs without reason to, as though she didn't want to make her dinner appearance too obvious.  The smell tempted her with every step, though, and her pace quickened.

When she pushed open the kitchen door silently, she saw Ron and Hermione standing by the oven talking.

"Should I go up and get her?  She was pretty upset, and I'd like to apologize."  Ron looked sincerely sorry for having doubted his sister.  Hermione shook her head, "No, she probably wants to talk about it, like us women usually do with things, and have a good cry, that sort of thing.  You wouldn't like it."

"It's alright," Ginny said loudly, causing the other two to jump slightly, "You don't have to worry about fetching me, the roast has done that for you."  She smiled gently. 

Ron and Hermione both seemed to sigh with relief, silently thanking the roast in the oven.  "Oh Ginny, I'm really sorry about earlier – "

"Ron, you're scaring me," Ginny giggled.  "You haven't been so eager to give an apology since – well, you've never been so eager."  To Ginny's surprise, Hermione started cracking up like she'd never laughed so hard in her life.  Ron just stared at her, chuckled nervously, and went to check on the roast.  Meanwhile, Ginny walked over to Hermione, who looked up, and when she saw the look on Ginny's face ("What the hell is wrong with you?") she started laughing even harder.

When Hermione seemed calm enough to hold a fork without killing anyone, the three sat down to eat, and for the first time, Ginny was shoveling down her food faster than her brother.  When the other two stopped eating, she noticed and said out of the corner of her full mouth, "Whad?"  As she finished chewing, she managed, "I haven't barely eaten anything all day!  And don't you dare look at me like that, Ron, or you won't be able to eat much without getting a stomach ache, and you sure as hell know why."  Ron quickly got back to his food and seemed to see if he could match her pace.

Full, content, and glassy eyed, they sat at the table in silence for several minutes.  Hermione, having gotten tired of Ron tapping his plate with his fork, summoned it and said, "Well, best get a good night's sleep, then."  They all nodded in agreement, somber-like, and one by one, they left the table to retreat to a, no doubt, difficult night.  Ginny was last, almost hesitant, and then resigned to following the couple.

Strange hushed voices surrounded his pounding head.  Pounding, throbbing, palpitating - whichever way you could describe the feeling of having your heart beating in you head.  He peeled the curtains being his eyelids open, and the light penetrated his being with such force that he knew the only sensible thing was to shut them again.

The voices – it suffocated him.  The pain – it blinded him.  And the light – naturally, it confused him.  Harry Potter had been locked away into an isolated building that he knew not the exact location of, and hadn't seen the light of day in six long years.  Or the light of _his _day, for that matter.

Why, all of the sudden, he was feeling extreme longing toward his love, he did not know.  Some four years ago (all a prisoner had was time, and the ability to count and contemplate its span) he told himself that he had lost her, and vice versa.  He faced the truth that his captor must have been tipped off, to know that killing him would not hurt him or others the most.  He must be held in confinement; in place that no one would think to look for a hero, never to return, leaving the ones he loved in wonder of his condition – or lack of it.  The only way to truly get to him was to take him away from his loved ones, and leave him with the feeling of dread that he's not there for him, even though he's alive.

But love was the largest part of Harry.  Without it, he was nothing.  If his mother hadn't died for him, he would be nothing.  Without having had Ginny there for him during his hardest and longest hour, he would be nothing.  Now that he didn't, he felt like nothing.

Yet why did he feel it now?

Harry thought immediately with dawning concentration that they would come looking for him.  He felt so happy he might laugh, something he didn't remember how to do.  But then he became angry.  What if they were caught?  He couldn't let something happen to Ginny, or Ron or Hermione.  If they came here, something bad would definitely happen.

_"Nothing bad will happen."_

Harry's head lifted up off of his shoulder and opened his eyes.  He was quite alone in the room, and even while he tried not to breathe so as to hear, all to be heard was the slow _drip-drop _of water flowing from the ceiling.  _I've finally gone mad, _he thought.  _First it was ghosts that don't . . . well, ghosts that don't 'exist' per say . . . now I'm hearing voices _again_ . . . _

Harry let himself hang on his chains and he felt like his hands would disconnect from his forearms.  Straightening up, he saw the glint of light again.  It flickered like someone was trying to burn him with glass, as though he was some sort of insect.  He squinted and tried to figure out what it was, but to no avail.  There was no source of light, except for the thin line under the door; outside in the corridor were torches lining the hall.  He was surprised he remembered this. 

No one had pity on him at all.  They didn't give him any way to escape, nor any way to end the madness, and his life.  He yelled out in agony, cursing a dead man – dead creature – for tearing the world apart for the sake of evil and power.  He was gone, and still he left people powerless.

A burning shaft of October light penetrated sleeping Ginny's eyes.  When she tried to open them, the light was so blinding she had to shut them.

Finally making her way downstairs into the kitchen, she found Ron drinking a mug of coffee, which normally he didn't do, and reading _the Daily Prophet, _also something that was out of the ordinary.  Ginny couldn't remember him taking a second glance at a newspaper himself since her third year, the year they're school had hosted the Triwizard Tournament. 

"Ron?" Ginny said in almost a whisper.  Ron looked up as though she had shouted.  "Yeah?" he replied, looking at her nervously.  He gulped.  Ginny smiled weakly.  "Don't be nervous, Ron.  I'm sure we're going to find him.  We have to."  Ginny's voice cracked and she folded her arms across her chest.  Ron set his coffee down without thoughts that it might spill over, and leapt down to the ground beside his sister, who now had curled into the fetal position.  Together they sat, rocking slowly as Ginny sobbed worries into the air that Ron could not decipher; he had no idea what she was talking about.  Still, he said things like "It'll be alright" and "Nothing bad's going to happen", because that's what Harry would encourage them all whenever something bad was sure to happen.  For lack of control of himself, a tear escaped his eye and he pulled Ginny closer.

Neither of them noticed, but Hermione opened the door to the kitchen slowly, smiled sadly and happily at the same time, and shut it silently, giving brother and sister time together before they set off on their journey.

A/N: Phew, sorry this chapter took so long.  I had started it sometime in early January I think, but almost forgot about it until I started reading fan fictions again.  Even so, it's still taken me a few weeks to get past my horrible writer's block and finish this chapter for all you guys. 

I admit, I considered abandoning it once again, but 1) I knew I couldn't do that to people who honestly complimented and enjoyed my writing, 2) I almost always finish anything I start, and 3) I love this story line!  Actually, it started out that I wanted to write a songfic to "Little Wing" by the Corrs, centered on Ginny and her young daughter, and Harry was 'gone'.  But by the end of 'Chapter One', I was writing up more of a longer plot that I had to continue.

So, I dunno if this sudden burst of inspiration will continue much longer . . . maybe if I get tons of reviews it will spark my imagination . . .

And of course, many thanks to you guys who have _already _reviewed and who continue to do so!  You do not go unnoticed! 

g.e.o.


	6. The Journey From Platform Nine and Three...

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, blah blah . . . heck; I don't even own the title to this chapter!  I stole *coughs* _borrowed_ it from Book 1!  

Also, the song "Goodbye" is Amy Lee's - I love her voice.  It would help to get a hold of this song, because the way she sings it, it's just like a lullaby of sorts.  If not, I dunno, try and imagine Ginny singing "Bring Me to Life" or something . . . J 

**A/N:** In the last chapter, if no one figured out why I called it "The Parallel" it was because, well, pay close attention to what's happening to Harry, then to Ginny . . . then imagine it's happening at the same _time . . . _Eh, eh?  Anybody?  Well, the first clue is the _light _that Harry sees (coming from _nowhere_) and then the voice Harry hears (_"Nothing bad is going to happen") _ . . . Still no one?  Well, at the same time, Ginny wakes up to _blinding light _(readers: _Ohhhh . . .) _and _Ron _is comforting _Ginny _when Harry gets the same comfort.

We clear, then? (By the way, props to Snowman1400 for figuring it out before I had the chance to post this!)

[Actually, some of that was a little unintentional; I just used it to my advantage for the title.]

[And I don't know if it'll have anything to do with future chaps . . . :-/)

Well then, on with the show!

. . . 

. . . Er, fan fiction?

The Old Lot 

The Journey From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

Rain came onto the windows as slashing swords of water, dueling with the solid of the glass.  It only reflected Ginny's mood; at least she'd like to think so.  Truly, she dreaded her destination and seeing people she hadn't seen since her graduation.  She didn't know how they would act around her.

_This'll be . . . well, not _exactly _like old times . . . _

The rumbling of the Hogwarts Express took Ginny out of her thoughts briefly.  She looked around the compartment; Ron was asleep across from her, Hermione leaning on him.  Ginny sighed, and began to doze off again.

*

A firefly nightlight, pink and glowing, dimly lighted the room.  The chest of a small redhead moved slowly up and down, and another redhead tiptoed across the room that was so familiar to her.  The walls were still a pale rose color, with stenciled figures of butterflies and daisies; her desk sat in the shadows of the darkest corner; cream-colored curtains adorned the clear windows looking out on the front lawn.  

Ivy was a deep sleeper - Ginny knew that.  The sun was not yet over the horizon, but she knew how early the girl could wake up.  Ginny sat down softly on the daybed, and gently pushed the untamed curls away from the child's ivory, freckly face.  In a soft singing whisper, she began:

"Goodnight, sleep tight  
No more tears  
In the morning I'll be here  
And when we say goodnight,  
Dry your eyes  
Because we said goodnight,  
And not goodbye"

She didn't know when she would see her daughter again.

"We said goodnight  
and not goodbye"

For what seemed like the millionth time in the past week, a tear escaped Ginny's eye, and then the child began to stir.  Ginny quickly backed out of the room, and Disapparated from the hallway.

*

"Ginny?"

On the brink of consciousness Ginny heard Hermione talking to her, but all she wanted to do was watch Ivy a little longer.  But like all things, dreams (or reflections of the past, as this may be more accurately described), must end, and she found herself not in her old bedroom at the Burrow, but in a dark, half-cozy train compartment.

"Hmm-yeah?"  Cleared her throat.  "Sorry, I'm so tired.  I couldn't sleep much last night . . ."

Hermione shook her head.  "It's all right.  I'm a bit tired myself, but Ron was the first to fall asleep."  Ginny realized Ron was indeed snoring on Hermione's shoulder.  It was kind of sad.

"You could probably get up and he wouldn't notice," Ginny suggested.

"Nah, he's not bothering me.  It's just a little, well, funny."  She laughed, though Ginny didn't know exactly why.  

"So, we've been worrying about _my_ situation since I got to your place," Ginny said, "So why don't I ask how you two have been?  Anything more out-of-the-ordinary than usual?"

Hermione sighed.  "Not really.  Ron is still at the Ministry; he's not getting time off for this, but he wouldn't let us go without him."

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, feeling guilty.  "You should have told me he had to work, we could have –"

"No, I tried to change his mind one night, but he wouldn't stand for it.  Anyway, I sent an owl up to the _Department of Magical Creatures_ the other day; it was just before you arrived with Ivy, actually.  I'm still waiting for a reply, but I have a lot of ideas for promoting the idea of S.P.E.W.  I do hope they consider them . . . I haven't had much luck in the past."

Ginny grinned inwardly.  Hermione was so bright, but sometimes she had to wonder.

"Right now," Hermione continued, "I've got a position as Head Librarian at the Wizard Library at Diagon Alley.  It's really wonderful there, I mean, so many _books . . . _Must be ten times as many as at Hogwarts, and that's hard to believe, don't you think?  Really, this place is _huge_."

"Yeah, I think Mum took us - Fred, George, Ron and I - once.  We never went back because the twins were charming a librarian's toupee to momentarily float above his head.  They put a restriction order on our family."  The memory was still quite embarrassing, and Ginny blushed hard.

Ron stirred slightly, as though he had heard his name but chose to ignore it.

"So, have you two considered . . . you know . . . kids, or anything?"

Hermione smiled.  "Well, not really verbally, you know . . ."  

Both women laughed.  "But he doesn't say much about it."

"Whether you want to think it or not, Ron would be a good father," Ginny said.  "Before he went to Hogwarts, I remember him telling me he wanted a family just like ours, with tons of kids running around. _ Just none like Fred and George_, he said.  They always picked on him.  But I know he really meant it.  Dunno if he feels the same way."

"I hope he does," Hermione mumbled absently.  She looked up.  "I mean - I'd like a big family, you know?  I always have, being an only child.  I didn't want my children to have to be alone all the time, with no one to stick by them.  It did get fairly lonely."  A distant expression crossed her face.  "But then of course, Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to me."  

Ginny could tell she was trying not to cry.  So she said, "Yeah, it was."

Hermione smiled, "It was, wasn't it?"

*

The train came to an abrupt stop, waking all three people in one compartment.  

"What the f–"

"Ron!"

"We're here," Ginny half-shouted.  Ron and Hermione looked at her.  Then Ron looked out the window.  

He chuckled.  "So we are."  Raindrops lingered on the window, but the sun shone brightly enough to heat their compartment.  A light, faded rainbow arched out from behind a distant castle, and memories flooded all of their minds like the rainstorms had done earlier that day.

"This is so . . . _weird,_" Ron whispered.  He stood and helped Hermione up.  "Are you coming, Ginny?" he asked.

"Yeah, go on."  Ron exited with Hermione, and Ginny would follow after taking another glance back at the school.  An old memory crossed her vision, and she had to shake her mind out of it.

"Well," Hermione sighed, linking arms with Ron and Ginny, "are we ready?"

The two with red hair nodded, both showing signs of slight nervousness.  Together they walked up to the carriage waiting for them, arranged to be there by the headmistress.  As there always had been, the phantom-like horses were at the front of the carriage, ready to pull.  Ginny still had to shiver when she saw them.

Ron climbed in after the two women, and once they were on their way, attempts at conversation were kept to a minimum.  It seemed to take forever and a moment to reach the steps, as Ginny walked dizzy-headed to her old school.  Before she had the chance to extend her hand to the door, it swung open, causing her hair to be pulled toward it.

"Elliot!" Ginny almost screamed, and she ran to hug a person she hadn't seen in years.  She hugged him around the middle, as he was at least two feet taller than her.  "How are you?"

"I'm good," Elliot said, uneasily touching Ginny's back with his large hands.  Finally she broke off and he sighed with relief, hopefully that she didn't notice.  "Wha' brings yeh 'round here, Miss Potter?"

"Oh, we've come to see Professor McGonagall.  How's your mum?"  Ginny was eager to stay on happy terms.

"Good as she'll ever be, I 'spect," he replied, and he looked around behind Ginny to Hermione and Ron, who had lingered back.  "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, didn't see you there!  How are yeh?"

Hermione stepped forward and hugged Elliot.  "Fine, thank you.  You seem great."

"Yeah, it's always been great 'round this place, for me.  'S my home, really."  Elliot paused, and whispered, "Anythin' 'bout Harry, lately?"

The three visitors exchanged glances.  "A few revelations," Ron said, keeping details to a minimum.  Elliot seemed to notice his hesitance to reveal information, so he sighed loudly and said, "Well, I've got lots to do, what with school and ground keeping duties.  It's a hassle, but Dad'd be proud, eh?"  He smiled weakly, and the company nodded practically in unison.  

"Definitely," Hermione said, very sure of herself while not so.  "It was nice seeing you again, but we really must be getting on."

"Oh, a course, Mrs. Weasley, don' let me keep yeh from . . . business," he said hurriedly.  "I was just headin' out to the forest, tend to the garden.  I'll see yeh all later, I 'spect."  He gave a cheery grin, and headed down the rest of the steps.  They watched him head off, a slight bounce in his step; his shadow casting an even bigger shape than all three of theirs combined.

"Well, McGonagall will be waiting," Ron prompted.  Ginny and Hermione broke away from staring and nodded in agreement.  They walked the familiar path of halls to the Headmistress' office, though it had once belonged to a Headmaster.

They met the large stone gargoyle and Ron took the initiative to quickly give the password ("Scotch Pies") so that they wouldn't be too late.

Ginny knocked on the door to the office, and opened it when she heard a faint, "Come in."

The room looked a lot different since the last time Ginny had been in it; she tried not to think about that time.  The whizzing silver contraptions no longer occupied its space, but instead a nice collection of books; volumes that looked about six centimeters wide each took up most shelf space.  Hermione looked like she was holding back from inspecting their titles.  All the portraits remained, and the last, late professor's picture hung in direct view of the office's desk.  Professor Dumbledore smiled at them, his eyes twinkling.

"Miss Potter, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley – Blast, what are you kids doing to me?  There are just too many new names to keep track of; I catch myself referring to you as Weasley, Weasley, and Granger, as it were."  The aging professor smiled and cleared her thoughts.  "Oh well, I suppose I have no control over young lives anymore.  Oh, and have a seat, no need to stay standing."  She conjured three armchairs.

"Well, Professor, you must have some control left in you, to run this school . . .?" Hermione asked, her arm twitching with an impulse to raise it eagerly into the air.  McGonagall smiled.

"Yes, I suppose I do.  Thanks to goodness, we haven't any more Freds or Georges, or even 'Marauders.'  Though I must observe that some students are getting a little more rebellious, none so much as those brothers of yours," she said, while nodding to Ron and Ginny.  "Anyway," she continued, "you came to discuss certain whereabouts of . . . of Mr. Potter, correct?"  Pain briefly crossed her lined face.  "Well I, for one, would like to hear this whole 'James story,' as Miss Gra – Mrs. Weasley mentioned in her owl."

Ginny stepped up to retell the whole story once again – she counted it to be the third time, to be exact.  When she finished, she felt oddly drained.

"Are you quite alright, Ginny?" Hermione asked.  "You don't look well."

"Just a little light-headed; I'm fine."  

Hermione shook her head.  "Maybe some tea?"  With a wave of her wand she made four steaming cups appear at the center of the desk.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Weasley, tea is wonderful," McGonagall replied, somewhat fast.  The old professor looked frazzled, not like herself at all.  _All is wrong in the world, _Ginny thought, sipping her scalding hot tea. 

". . . And we were thinking of the prime places that he could possibly be, since we now know he is indeed alive."  Ginny caught the end of what Hermione was saying as she returned to the atmosphere of the office.

"Yes," Ginny said quickly, and Ron only gave her a funny look before saying, "Right, so we were wondering if we might . . . have a look around."

McGonagall hesitated.  "I suppose . . . if you really believe he might be here . . ."

"Not so much that as it might lead us to more clues, I think," Ginny said quietly.  She looked to Hermione.  "The Marauder's Map is in one of the tunnels.  I don't remember which."

"I do," Ron cut in.  "The one under the Whomping Willow."

*

Silence, but for the soft _pat pat _of their soles, enveloped the three companions as they ventured down the never-ending tunnel.  Occasionally Hermione would hiss, _"Ow!  Ron!" _after he would stop abruptly to check the ground and she would run into his backside.  Ginny was becoming really exhausted, but she didn't want the others to think they had to stop.

Barely unexpectedly, Ron stopped again and Hermione bit back a curse over which she had control not to say.  "Goodness, Ron, don't you remember where you two left it?"  Hermione fell to the ground and cracked her back by twisting it.  Ron didn't respond for several seconds.

Then he simply said, "Found it."  Hermione and Ginny sat up to kneel next to Ron, and they looked at the old, dusty piece of parchment he clutched in his hands.

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."  _Ron tapped the map lightly as he spoke, and Hogwarts appeared once again onto the old map.  He dusted it off, and clearly they could see Professor McGonagall was still in her office, Professors Binns and Trite in the lounge, and old Filch walking the 4th floor corridor with Mrs. Norris.

"Well . . ." Ginny said slowly, "What do we do now?"

Hermione stood up, at least as far up as she could stand without knocking herself out on the ceiling, and she brushed the earth off of her khakis.  "I think we can say for sure that we're finished here."  She peered down at the map.  "Well, right now we're closer to the Shrieking Shack than Hogwarts, so we might as well head down to Hogsmeade.  We can grab some lunch at the Three Broomsticks, like old times."

Twisting their backs as they emerged into the room only too familiar to them, the three friends exited the dilapidated building and across the lawn to the main road.  Passing shops, Ginny reminisced of her schooldays.  The bookstore, Zonko's Joke Shop . . . All places she hadn't been in so many years . . . . Finally they approached the Three Broomsticks, a place, she feared, that held the most memories of all . . . 

 Ron held open the door for the ladies, and Ginny's eyes had to adjust from the bright sun outside to the dimmer inside of the tiny inn.  The bartender smiled at them.  "Afternoon, ladies, sir.  What can I get you?"

"We'll have three butterbeers," Ron answered, looking back to check with Hermione and Ginny, who both nodded.  The man nodded and disappeared behind the counter.

"We'll get seated then?" Ginny said, and she led them to a table near the door.  The bartender came back with their drinks, and handed out menus.  The inn was fairly empty.

"I never know what to get here," Hermione said impatiently.  "We usually ate dinner back at the Great Hall."

"You could just order a sandwich or something," Ron suggested.

"Or soup, or fish and chips . . . There are tons of choices."  After scanning the menu once over again, Hermione sat back in her seat.  "Well, I know what I'm getting."

Ron looked at her, his mouth open, and then closed it.  "Me too.  What about you, Ginny?  Ginny, are you listening to me?"

Lost for words, Ginny pointed at the Marauder's Map, which Ron had discarded to the edge to the table when they had sat down.  Ron and Hermione leaned over, and Hermione gasped.

The dot labelled _Draco Malfoy _was moving through the tunnel from the Whomping Willow, and disappeared as the map ended.

A/N:  Hah, that felt good.  I haven't had a good cliff in a while; I was well overdue for another.  Questions?  Comments?  Reviews?  Feel free!  And my email should be on my author's page, though I do have my review alert set up.  Hmm . . . Anything else for you wonderful people who are going to review once I finish talking endlessly and consistently and annoyingly?  Yes, a THANK YOU is in order, I do believe . . . 

THANK YOU!

Yes, without reviewers, I . . . wouldn't have any reviews?  I'll bet most people have stopped reading this by now.  Yes, I think I'll stop writing this fic.

HAH gotcha!  Nah, I'm in too deep in this one, though I honestly don't know where I'm going . . . well, a little . . . but it's funner this way, isn't it?

And yeah, 'funner' is my word.  Long story, short attention span.

For the love of writing,

~g.e.o.

(Post Script [hey, I like to be different] – I started a one shot, *bites lip waiting for response*, though I dunno when I'll finish/ post it.  I'll tell you now though, it's James/Lily +Remus, Sirius, and new characters . . . FUN!!)


	7. The Deception

_Edit 8-18-04: I spelled "Mekhi" wrong. I borrowed the name from an actor in NBC's "ER", Mekhi Phifer._

****

**The Old Lot**

The Deception

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Ron said loudly.

"Quiet!" Hermione and Ginny shushed him, and they noticed a young mother at a table near them covered her child's ears. Ron noticed too and apologized. "But really, what _is _he doing here? No one's seen him in ages. And look," he pointed at the map, "He's not there anymore."

"Well, I suppose we could go out by the Shack, and wait for him . . .?" suggested Ginny, hurriedly. The others exchanged glances and Ginny bit her lip. "I mean it's the least we'll be able to do. He looked like he was in a hurry."

"But _Malfoy?" _Hermione breathed. "He's been missing as long as Harry has! What if he's somehow involved?"

"Then he'll get what's coming to him, that's for sure," Ron growled, as he cracked his knuckles. His face was steadily reddening.

"Well, what if he's dangerous?" Hermione said. Ginny looked at Hermione. "It's not as though we haven't got wands!" she said, holding hers up for proof. "We'd be better off."

Ron got up and pushed in his chair. "Well you two can stick around, discuss this, and eat your sandwiches, but I'm going out and seeing what's up." True to his word, Ron stepped out the door and his cloak disappeared around the corner. Ginny then stood, looked at Hermione, and followed Ron out. Hermione sighed, threw down her napkin onto the table and gathered up the map to leave.

As she caught up to her brother, Ginny's thoughts whirled around her head so fast she was getting dizzy. Draco Malfoy, just about a block away from her? She had often suspected him of being related to Harry's disappearance, but _here? _Right _now? _She grabbed Ron's sleeve to make him stop. While she had been running to catch up to him, his long strides allowed him to just walk and maintain a distance of several feet. He turned around and his expression softened slightly when he must have realized she wasn't a crazy stalker-person. _Git._

"Let's – wait – for – Hermione," she managed to gasp, and she pulled Ron down onto the nearest bench. Ron looked extremely irritated. "What if he gets away? We have to catch him!"

"Pound him into the ground, more like," Ginny mumbled as she leaned forward to see Hermione walking swiftly towards them.

"Well, yes, that too," Ron agreed, and when he saw Hermione he got up again. "She's close enough, just keep up the pace," he told Ginny, and he was off again, each step seemingly longer than the last. She shook her head, now also irritated, and waved Hermione to hurry up.

"He's so anxious," Ginny said, and they tried to match his stride. With no luck, they broke into a run.

Ron had stopped at the edge of the lawn, and when they had caught up, they noticed Ron looking angrier than ever, and without warning he ran at top speed into the Shrieking Shack. Hermione sighed loudly but she, too, looked furious at the thought of Malfoy narrowly escaping them like this.

The two women waited around for several silent minutes in waiting, exchanging no words of any sort. After an eternity, Ron stalked out of the building, his face white and crestfallen. Then his old anger returned.

"He's _gone,_" Ron growled, punching the air with his fist. As though the sound had been turned off since they'd been running, her heart filling simultaneously with fright and hope, the sound of locals making their day's trip into town flooded her ears with the force of a broken dam. She, too, was quite frustrated that Malfoy had slipped right through their fingers by chance; also that no more than a half hour earlier the three of them had been walking out of the Shrieking Shack with only lunch on their minds.

Hermione looked more than a bit miffed now – by the way her hair seemed to curl and heighten before your eyes you'd think she was on the very edge of sanity, or worse.

"I can't _believe_ it!" she managed to shriek in a whisper. "Right here, right now, and we happen to have the map? And he's _gone? _It's outrageous! And right through our fingertips!" Hermione's ranting became steadily louder, each phrase more incoherent than the last. Ron and Ginny decided to let it go for a while, although heads started turning as they exited the sweet shop, Honeydukes, at the corner. They silently agreed to avoid eye contact.

"-If we could've, if only we would've _waited-"_

"We didn't have a have reason to, Hermione," Ron said, his voice steady, though you could tell by his expression he was gathering all his self-control to remain calm while his wife could not.

"Yes, well, we should've paid more attention to the map in the tunnel, it would've showed-"

"It was completely dark except for our wands," Ginny said meekly. "We didn't need the map; the tunnel is only one path. We don't even know if Malfoy came out into the Shack, he could've Apparated once off the Hogwarts grounds. The map ends-"

"Maybe the map was wrong!" Hermione shouted at Ginny, pausing in her hysterical pacing. Ginny shrunk back only a little before she whispered, looking down at her feet, "The Marauder's Map never lies." Having unknowingly quoted her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of her second year, Ginny didn't understand why, just then, Hermione stopped with an enormous intake of breath and collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron, realizing, too, what Ginny had said, sat down at Hermione's side and put a strong, comforting arm around her. He shushed Ginny when she began to ask what exactly she'd done.

"I miss – him so much," Hermione moaned.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Who?" Hermione repeated miserably. "Who've we been thinking about constantly the last few days? Harry, you dolt! Our – best friend. The best man at our wedding and – and the godfather to our first child, who has yet even to be born! But I want him to be here!" Apparently this had been the last Hermione could give. She buried her face into Ron's chest and thousands of tears, long since in need of shedding, soaked his shirt.

Ginny wasn't sure whether to stay for support or to let the couple cope alone, so, trying to meet in the middle somewhere, she suggested, "Why don't we get a room in the Three Broomsticks?"

"That's an excellent idea," Ron said, faint relief in his voice. He helped up Hermione, who dried her eyes and face with sleeves, and he put his free arm around Ginny. Together they walked up the emptying street, once again disturbed by a new turn of events.

After Dane, the bartender, had shown Ron and Hermione into one room and Ginny into another, Ron went back to the castle to retrieve their things from the teachers' lounge. To pass the time in between his departure and return, Ginny joined Hermione in the couple's room and the two played cards. Hermione was a lot calmer, and the tears she'd shed at last had revived her. 'I'm surprised I lasted that long without them,' she had laughed on their way up the street.

As Ginny turned to look at the clock (8:03 PM), Ron walked in the door. He carried a suitcase in each hand and one under his arm. Ginny got up off the bed and eased his load by taking her suitcase from his left hand. Ron set down the other two next to him and said, "What have you two got in there, bricks?"

"No, but just enough stuff so that I can do the wash every week. We don't know how long we'll be gone." Hermione's voice faded towards the end of her statement. Ginny took the opportunity to tell them her plans for the evening. "I think I'll unpack my things now, and then head down to Honeydukes. Ivy's never had a Sugar Quill, so I think I'll send her some things from the post office."

Ron nodded. "Would you mind picking up some Chocolate Frogs for me? I have a sudden craving for chocolate..."

Ginny smiled. "Sure."

"Okay, just let me give you some money..."

"Oh Ron, please, I can handle it. You two just settle in and I'll be back in half an hour." With that Ginny heaved her suitcase through the door joining the two rooms. She unpacked a few outfits into the small closet by the bed and pocketed a few Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. As she turned to leave, however, she remembered something and bent over her suitcase once more. She dug through a mass amount of clothing and found what she was looking for at the bottom of the bag: a photo of Harry and her on their wedding day. She propped it up on the night table and smiled as Harry kissed her photographic self's cheek.

The days were getting longer, and the nights cooler. Ginny could see just between some shops the sun, low in the sky, indicating that the sun would be setting within the hour. Wanting to be back at the inn before then, she quickened her pace and soon reached Honeydukes. – Just the same as when I was last here, she thought. – Though it looks like they've got a wider selection...

New items she hadn't seen before included Everlasting Ice Cream ("Won't melt for weeks in 50ËšC weather!"), Make Your Own Slugs ("Tease your little sister!"), and Melt-in-your-mouth Snowflakes ("No two are alike!") Ginny thought the Snowflakes would be good for Ivy, so she bought a few packets of those, but she definitely felt safer with all the old classics: Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs, and so many more.

When she'd finished her candy shopping, some of which she'd had put in a gift bag, Ginny headed down to the post office.

Hundreds of owls sat on shelves, color-coded and ready to go on their next mission. While looking for the right owl, a dark man dressed in uniform asked her, "D'you need help with anything, Miss?"

"Well, yes," Ginny started, caught slightly off-guard by the voice with a slight French accent. "I'd like to send these," –she held up the bag- "to my daughter in Ottery St. Catchpole." The man looked up, scanning rows of owls, obviously looking for a certain one. Finally he broke into an odd looking smile, revealing a gold tooth. "Lieutenant!" said the man suddenly. Just then a large, gray owl came swooping down onto his arm. "Strictly speaking," he whispered, "we're not supposed to name the birds. Got numbers, see?" He showed Ginny a little green tag clipped to the bird's wing, and on it said '126'. "But I've known this bird for a while, one of the best." He smiled again at her. "Would you like me to handle the package?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Ginny said, feeling more and more troubled by the man's presence. "I've got it, really." The man's smile faded faintly, and then he nodded. "Alright," he said. "My name's Mekhi, if you ever need a hand."

"Thank you Mekhi," Ginny said, taking the owl from his arm. "Thank you for your help." She secured the package to the bird's foot and walked quickly to the counter.

"That'll be two Galleons and six Sickles," announced the man behind the counter. Ginny handed him the coins, thanked him, and left the post office with what she hoped wasn't recognized as a nervously fast pace.

Once outside in the crisp, autumn air, Ginny felt somehow relieved. She didn't exactly know why that man had scared her, but something about him hadn't been quite right, like he'd sought her out on purpose. – Get a grip, she told herself. – You're just overreacting.

Suddenly, not paying attention, Ginny stumbled into someone. She gasped and saw the someone, who was a medium height, round-faced man, fall over backwards. He dropped a package, and Ginny realized he must've been heading to where she'd just come from. He took the package, stood up, and as he was brushing himself off, Ginny recognized him.

"Neville!" she said. She went in and hugged her old friend, but when she backed away, Neville wasn't smiling. "Neville?" she asked, "Are you alright?" He blinked and there was a grin there, so Ginny almost sighed in a strange relief.

"Good to see you, Ginny! What are you doing around here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Ginny said excitedly. "I got your letter last month, and you said you were taking a holiday with your Aunt Wittle."

Neville laughed. "Well, Auntie fell ill the day before I was to leave, and she... she said it's 'highly contagious' and I'd 'better not come after all'."

"Oh that's terrible!" Ginny said consolingly, while Neville nodded his head. "I do hope she gets better." She looked to her right and saw the horizon; the sun was nearly hidden by the earth. "I'd better go," she hastened. "Ron and Hermione are back at the Three Broomsticks. 'Bye." Just as she turned to leave, Neville grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he said. "You didn't tell me why _you're _here." He smirked at her like he was about to say 'Thought you'd get away with it, eh?'

"Well, the three of us thought we'd spend some time together, you know, away from, uh, certain distractions." Ginny had said this all very fast. "It was nice seeing you again, Neville," she said slower. "I wish your Aunt good health." She smiled a smile she knew must look artificial and started walking in the opposite direction.

– What the hell was that? she thought. – Neville had just been perfectly courteous and I was so _rude. _What had come over me? She felt awful having treated Neville that way, for no one deserved that kind of attitude. Thinking she would at least apologize for her atrocious behavior, Ginny turned around to see no sign of him; only last minute shoppers made their ways down and up the street.

Ginny didn't even know why she didn't tell Neville the real reason she, Ron and Hermione were staying in Hogsmeade; it wouldn't have done any harm. Maybe she subconsciously didn't feel it necessary to be blabbing to every old friend she met that they were looking for Harry... That satisfied her mind, so she walked up to her room, delivered Ron his Chocolate Frogs, and laid herself down to a pleasant sleep.

Cold and shivering. Invisible cracks in the walls. Arctic air numbing his skin. Human ice cube... Colder than the lake at Hogwarts... Harry could see in the small pool of water, whose surface was freezing over, that his lips were turning blue and frost glittered in his eyelashes. The room was poorly insulated, if at all, but this was still the worst autumn he'd ever experienced. He jerked violently at the thought of what winter would be like...

More than not wanting to have to endure frostbitten toes and fingers for the sixth consecutive year, Harry dreaded having Christmas alone. Last year, he was served undercooked turkey, raw string beans, and moldy crescent rolls. The year before, Dementors hosted his dinner. He hadn't even known there were any Dementors still around; they'd been supposedly wiped out by the Ministry at the end of the Second War. But the screaming inside his head, no longer of just his parents, assured him that what he was seeing was real. He was very surprised (and very lucky) that they hadn't kissed him.

Now, he'd taken to watching his fingers shake, seeing how long it would be until he would hit himself in the face. _10 seconds... 6 seconds... 3 seconds..._

_Wake up, git! You're not dead _yet_..._ Trying to get a grip on himself, Harry rubbed his bruised wrists that had only been unshackled yesterday. At least now he had the freedom to smooth his hands over his goose pimpled flesh.

Suddenly something was not right. He felt comfortable. His arms were stationary and his teeth stopped chattering. The heavy wooden door to his cell opened slowly and without a creak, looking as though it were light as a feather. Then a bright white, celestial being floated through the doorway... _I must be dreaming... _Then he was knocked out.

When he came to, Harry heard shrill laughter somewhere in front of him. The brightness was gone, and his eyes felt burned from the inside out, all from what the magnitude of the light had been a minute ago. Again he heard the laughter; it was very unpleasant and harsh on his ears.

"Potter, didn't you think my act was quite... heavenly?"

Now he recognized the voice and he groaned with a strong feeling of dread. If this was going to be like last time...

Feeling pleased with a good night's sleep, Ginny stretched in her lumpy hotel bed and arched her back like a cat, having slept in her typical curled up position. – Breakfast sounds good, she thought. At the same she wondered if Ron and Hermione were already up, but decided not to intrude in case they were, ahem, indisposed.

As she tiptoed, without real reason to, down the stairs voices told her that her friends were indeed already up. And this did not, in the least bit, soothe her...

Their voices sounded urgent, but their exact words were muffled by the stairwell. As quickly and quietly as she could, she came down the stairs and landed, to her utter dismay, with a loud creak on the last step. She stopped abruptly, silently cursing her lack of stealth. She cringed and hoped they wouldn't notice the noise, but luck failed her and Hermione stopped talking, looking up.

"Morning, Ginny," Hermione said, putting on an obviously forced smile. Her face was red and blotchy. "Some tea?" Ron didn't say anything, but stared at the table with intense concentration, his face and ears redder than Ginny had ever seen them.

"What's going on, you two?" Ginny asked. "Why are you acting as though I shouldn't know something?"

Hermione let slip a sob and Ron finally looked up. His face was stony and ash-tinged, using all his might to maintain composure.

"Someone's been murdered." He gestured to the newspaper between him and Hermione, who now had her face in her hands.

Ginny gasped. "Where?" she asked.

"Just in town," said Ron.

Ginny walked slowly towards the table, and laid eyes on the paper. Her breath caught in her throat. A moving picture of a man of about Harry's age was located on the front cover, his round face smiling modestly.

She tried several times to speak, though to no avail.

Ron gulped. "It's Neville," he said, however unnecessarily.

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a long time, I've been without a computer for that long. Even as I write this I don't have internet access... Obviously now that this chapter is up and you're reading it, I have it back, but writing this _now... _the _past _for you... ah well, I'm confusing myself. My brother says this chapter was too short... do you agree?

(REVIEW!!)

And I think now, in the past, I am going to start the next chapter...

Love, Alex (or g.e.o., whichever you all prefer...)


	8. The Acquaintance

_Edit 8-21-04: Isle of White should be "Isle of Wight" thanks to pudadingding. The only reason I knew of the place at all is because my cousin's grandmother is from there, and said cousin went there this past year, I believe._

**The Old Lot**

The Acquaintance

"_Early this morning, a disturbance awakened the innkeeper at the Hog's Head. When the fuss didn't end he trudged up the stairs and found the noise coming from behind door 13, a room occupied since last night. He could not believe he was seeing what he found._

_"'There's a man lying on the floor, and he was definitely dead, wasn't moving and all. Then there was another man in a hooded cloak, this one alive, and he snapped his fingers, and the dead guy disappeared. Moments later he did too.' The innkeeper, wishing to remain anonymous, commented later that he couldn't tell how the man had died, but knew exactly who it was: Neville Longbottom._

_"'He came in late last night asking for a room, and I recognized him from somewhere. Don't know where from, though.' Neville was 27 years old and his parents died insane at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries five years ago. Ministry workers are getting in touch with an aunt of Neville's, and until then the _Prophet _is to release no more information._

_Mr. Longbottom was not known to have trouble with other wizards, but if anyone should have information relating otherwise, they should contact the Ministry immediately."_

Ginny still refused to believe this sudden news. It didn't make sense; she'd just talked to Neville the previous night. It was equally impossible, in Ginny's opinion, to believe Neville would ever have trouble with other wizards.

"I saw him," Ginny said.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Last night. I ran into him, literally, and he asked what I was doing here. I asked the same of him - he'd told me a while ago that he was to be visiting an aunt this month - and he said she'd fallen ill. Then he asked me again what I was doing here, and I... I lied."

"You _lied?" _Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "He's our friend, you could've told him! There'd be nothing wrong with Neville knowing."

Ginny began to feel more awful by the second. "I know," she sighed, "I don't know why I did it, either! It just didn't feel... quite right. I... I don't know. I really don't know." She combed her fingers through her hair and leaned on her elbows. "This can't keep happening. Friends disappearing and dying; evil, _effing _gits getting away and us not knowing how or why! Soon it's going to be one of us! Or maybe we'll run into Dean Thomas or Luna Lovegood, and after that it's 'Oh, we're sorry, we bring death and destruction to all our friends, it's time for you to go now. Goodbye.' And what about Ivy? She's being raised without a father, every child needs a father, and now I've gone too, her mother, what good is a mother or father if there not there to be with you? It would be Harry's childhood all over again!"

"Ginny, you're getting hysterical," Ron said calmly. "Nothing's going to happen to Ivy, she's with Mum and Dad. I agree - every child needs a father, so right now you're doing your best to give her that."

Ginny looked up at her brother, who was smiling slightly, despite having just heard everything his sister been thinking about for a long time. Staring in near awe, she said finally, "When did the stubborn redhead with a huge temper become so wise and understanding?"

Ron shrugged, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Dunno. Guess I'm getting... _old_..." Shuddering, he grimaced.

"Maybe _not," _Hermione said, rolling her eyes. But they all laughed anyway.

Her brother and Hermione began talking, but Ginny didn't pay attention. She thought something over quickly.

"We have to get out of here," she finally said. Ron looked at her disbelievingly. "But we just _got _here!"

"Oh, you're so daft, you know that?" Ginny said. Ron started to say something about 'what happened to wise and understanding,' but Ginny ignored him. "We came to find out where Harry went, didn't we?" Ron and Hermione nodded. "Absolutely," Hermione said.

"Okay then, he's not here, so why are we just sitting here on our _lazy arses _and acting as though we're just waiting for him to show up? We have to start looking!"

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister," Ron blurted out.

"Let me tell you," she said, standing up. "She's been waiting since she was still pregnant with Ivy for Harry to miraculously return, and only now is she realizing that's not going to happen. For every time Harry's saved our skins, we're going to find him and repay him for everything. We're going to find him and _bring him home. _We're going to find him and introduce him to his daughter." Ginny's eyes welled with happiness and determination. "And while we're at it, we're going to kick Malfoy in the ballocks and give him what he deserves!" Breathing heavily, Ginny sat back down to signify the end of her speech.

"You missed your calling, Gin," Ron said, his eyes wide. "You should get together with Oliver Wood and co-captain a quidditch team." He shook his head in disbelief. "That speech was bloody brilliant, really."

"Oh, shove it and go pack your suitcases. We're leaving in five minutes."

Hermione choked on her orange juice. _"Five minutes? _Have you lost your marbles? We don't even know where to go next! We have to plan what-"

"To hell with planning, Hermione," Ginny said firmly. "Harry didn't plan to witness Voldemort's rebirth, nor did he plan to get rid of him the way he did. Let's just... _go." _All of the sudden Ginny remembered something. "D'you remember what the map said? _'Lost will be found, yet hardships you will not escape.' _We're going to find him; it just definitely won't be easy. We'll just have to... follow our hearts, or something."

"You're right," Hermione said. Silence ensued for a few seconds then...

"Ouch! 'Mione!"

"Don't you _'Mione _me, Ronald Weasley. You heard your sister, let's go get packed." She jumped up energetically, as though Ginny's surge of purpose had extended to her, too. Ron was still rubbing his head where Hermione had hit him, but followed her upstairs.

Ginny watched him go and then turned around, looking over the shop. They were really doing it now. They were really going to find him.

She looked out the window. It was bright and sunny outside today. A shiver of excitement went down Ginny's spine and she smiled insanely. Then the thought that she, too, had yet to pack her suitcase disturbed her moment of satisfaction and she ran up the stairs, faster than she'd done in years.

"You," Harry growled. He had to distract her as long as he could.

Pansy giggled nauseatingly. "Oh yes, it's definitely me, Potter. Are you surprised to see me?"

"Something like that. Not your appearance, but your presence."

Pansy's smile faltered. "I don't get you, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Now _that _doesn't surprise me."

Pansy looked angry. "Now listen, _Potter," _she said venomously, spitting out his name like poison. "Things in here could get rough, you know," she warned; her voice was slightly husky. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she walked closer. "It may just be too much for your little brain to handle."

Harry stared her straight in the eye. "You haven't got to worry about me. If it's only me you can get, that's just sad for you. What's the matter with Draco; have you two got in another fight or something?"

"You'll do your best not to mention that name right now. He's on a little... _errand,_ at the moment." Her eyes glittered mischievously. "Though what he would want with _your _girl..."

"You power-hungry bitch," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Potter?" Pansy shrieked. Harry looked at the floor, concentrating on keeping his expression neutral. "Ohh," she purred, "Cat got your tongue?" She bent down, grabbed Harry's face, and kissed him fiercely. It was all Harry could do to keep from vomiting until he'd pushed her away.

"Get away from me, you wretched whore!" he yelled, and his voice echoed slightly.

Pansy only laughed. "And what are you going to do about it?" Suddenly Harry's hands became bound together, behind his back, by an invisible force. Soon after that the same happened with his ankles.

"Yes, that's better. You'll be easier to deal with now." She straddled his legs and sat on them, and inched closer until her breasts touched his chest. Slowly she leaned forward and breathed into his nose. His limbs became limp, though he was still quite awake.

Pansy turned his head and her long fingernails dug into his cheek. He felt her tongue lick the blood away. Try as he might, he could not move to stop her. Then with her nails she sliced open his ragged T-shirt, creating a long, thin red line down his chest and torso. His ribs looked as though with one intake of breath they would escape his skin. He looked like an anorexic teenager, which was half true: he was fed very little, but he was also twenty-seven years old.

Harry wished there was some way he could fall asleep rather than go through with this conscious. Unfortunately Pansy made sure that he didn't. She gave him hickeys in a line from his ear to his shoulder. She violated his privacy.

Moments before he passed out, Harry thought vaguely, _I wonder how much the bastard's paying her for this._

Ginny pocketed her suitcase that she'd shrunk, and knocked on Ron and Hermione's door. A deep voice from inside told her they were almost ready; they'd meet her downstairs.

Getting a butterbeer and sitting at a table to wait, Ginny thought about the Hog's Head. Ivy had suggested it as a place where Harry might be hiding, and the memory made Ginny smile. Now after what had recently happened, she didn't think the idea of searching the inn was a bad idea. It was suspicious that Neville would be killed (and, it also seemed, kidnapped) for no apparent reason. –Well, Ginny thought, usually there wouldn't be an apparent reason, that's why the Ministry investigates odd murders.

Then she remembered the man in the cloak. What was that all about? How could he make Neville disappear with just a snap of his fingers? Usually, in order to make something disappear, a normal wizard required the use of a wand - unless they were really powerful. Like Voldemort.

Now she was being silly. Harry defeated Voldemort in her sixth year. She was there.

But it was true: Voldemort had been a very powerful wizard, and without a wand he was no exception. There was also Dumbledore. He had been the only wizard they say Voldemort had ever feared. He had also lived, unlike many, through Voldemort's reign, if only just.

Should she suggest to Ron and Hermione that they stop in at the Hog's Head? Ginny honestly had no other idea of what they were to do. Yes, she had said a nice speech about following their hearts, but truly, if her heart was telling her something right now, she wasn't getting the message.

The shadows of two people standing by her woke her from her reverie, and without much thought she blurted, "The Hog's Head."

Hermione looked at her oddly. "Yes, it was in the _Prophet _this morning. What about it?"

"We should go there and see if we can figure out what was going on with Neville and that guy with the cloak. It might explain why I had that bad feeling about telling Neville the truth."

"Ginny, do you really think you chose not to tell Neville about us, just by going on a bad feeling?" Ron asked sceptically.

Ginny growled angrily. "Actually, Ron, that's exactly what it was," she snapped. "I was about to, but then I almost felt sick to my stomach, so I lied. How else would you explain that?" Ron blushed and shook his head, muttering "Dunno..."

"Right, so does anyone have any other objections to going to the Hog's Head? Hermione?" Hermione shook her head and Ginny stood up. "Well then let's go." With that she downed her drink and walked resolutely towards the doors.

Ron shook his head again. "I haven't seen her like this in _years_."

Straightening her robes and tucking a key into her pocket, Pansy walked swiftly down the corridor and toward the staircase. The wall sconces flickered on the cold stone as she passed and her click of her heels echoed. –So damn cold up there, she thought.

When she was beginning to wish she had someone to complain to about too many steps, Pansy found herself on level ground. To the left was an exit, and to the right was a hopeless excuse for a kitchen. Or she could go straight, to Draco's quarters. She decided to get her fill of authority by going to the kitchens first; she'd deal with Draco later.

To no surprise, she found Crabbe and Goyle bullying house elves into making all sorts of sweets, cakes, and pies, and, in her opinion, getting fatter every day. One of the workers ran into Pansy's leg, coating it with flour. Pansy spat at the disgusting creature and kicked it away from her. With a wave of her wand, she cleared up the mess on her leg and boot.

"Look at you two!" she shrieked. They both jumped up in surprise. "You're lucky you're mates with Draco, or he'd have you stuffed and mounted on his wall." She paused in satisfaction as the dumb men looked stupidly at their sugar-coated hands and attempted to hide them in their pockets. "Anyway, who gave you permission to hang around the kitchens? You're supposed to be on guard duty."

"He's not here," Goyle said trollishly. Then he laughed as though he'd said something very witty and funny. Crabbe started laughing, too, engaging the pair in a guffawing contest.

Until...

"SHUT UP!" Pansy screeched loudly. They snapped to attention and Crabbe knocked over a table behind him. "Shut up and where is he?"

They both shrugged and looked down at their pigeon-toed feet. Pansy growled in annoyance and stormed out of the kitchens, up to Draco's office.

Curtains fluttered in a small window, a mere opening in the wall, no glass. The ocean roared far below. A little wooden table stood in the middle of the room, and the wind picked up a piece of parchment pinned to it by a small dagger.

Without daring to touch the knife, Pansy ripped the note off of the table and it read: _I'll be back in a few days. Watch Potter._

Really, she'd been joking to Potter about Draco going out on an errand. He was just supposed to be here, doing next to nothing... Oh, this made her mad. The little bastard was probably off to see his bloody _wife _or something...

As Ginny braved the high wind outside, she realized that winter was indeed well on its way. Also that is was oddly dry for fall; she had the bad feeling that rain was holding out until the last possible (and most likely unfortunate...) moment. The element whistled in her ears and made her eyes water, though they were nearly shut. The world around her was soundless.

She turned around to make sure Ron and Hermione were with her, but immediately regretted doing so when a mask of red hair obscured her vision. Ginny sighed in frustration and decided to take shelter in a small alley. Moments later, her brother and friend stumbled in after her, looking as windswept as she must look.

"When – did that happen?" Ron said, voicing everyone's question.

"When the weather decided it didn't like us," Hermione said, smoothing down her cloak.

"Has the weather ever liked us?" asked Ginny. A pause, then, "No," Ron and Hermione answered together. They all laughed despite themselves.

"So, how are we going to survive our journey to the Hog's Head?"

"Who knows."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly confident."

The three looked simultaneously back at the street, to see an older woman with a shopping bag pulling a "Mary Poppins" without the umbrella.

Hermione chuckled nervously. "Maybe we should just stick it out here, until it dies down a bit, and then make a break for it."

"No objections here," Ron said, mock surrender. Then, just as he was opening his mouth to say something, a black-gloved hand covered it.

Ginny momentarily panicked before she grabbed her wand, almost the same time as Hermione did the same thing. But whoever was attacking them was thinking ahead. A voice yelled, "_Expelliarmus!" _and Ginny's mouth was held, too, before she could scream. She bit the hand, and her attacker growled in pain but didn't let go. Instead, a strange mist floated before her eyes, and she went unconscious.

He awoke. It was early morning. There was no indication for it, but even his body-clock had not failed him after all these years. Flat on his back at the moment, Harry stared at the moldy ceiling. The faint glow it and the walls gave off was the only source of light in his cell. He'd heard of a glowing magical plant, but at the moment could not find the name.

He tried to get up, but his head immediately started spinning and he gave up. The room was deathly cold, and his breath floated above him every time he exhaled. _Yes, I could use a jumper right about now. A nice, warm Weasley jumper..._

Several long minutes later, Harry succeeded in pulling himself up and sliding back against the wall before running out of physical energy. He breathed slow, deep breaths for several seconds before the small door inside the larger door to his cell opened up and a bowl of no doubt disgusting food slid under. Now he was at least ten feet farther away from the door than he was five minutes ago.

_Can this get any worse?_

_Don't think that – it probably will._

As her eyes fluttered open, the first thing she noticed was the smell. She recognized it from somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind. She had been here before... It was of... goats?

Then she noticed she was bound and tied to a chair, and her mouth was gagged. She struggled against the ropes for a few seconds, but her wrists became raw quickly and she gave up. In her peripheral vision, to her left, she saw Ron, still out cold as far as she could tell, and she heard but couldn't see Hermione waking up.

"Hermione," Ginny tried to say, but it was extremely muffled and she herself could barely understand it. But to her surprise she got a response.

_Tap tap. Tap tap tap._

The pattern clicked on a light in Ginny's brain. Muggle Studies. Fifth year. What was it called? A code. It was a code. She recognized Hermione's patterns as she tapped them out with her feet.

_Ginny. Can you understand me?_

_Yes. Muggle Studies._

_Good. Can you see Ron?_

_Yes. He's to my left._

_Okay. Can you see anything else? I am facing a wall._

_Not really. It's really dim in here._

Ginny heard Hermione make a frustrated noise. Then she tapped out: _Should we try to do anything?_

_What is there to do?_

_I don't know._

It was silent for a few minutes after that, defeat in the air. Then Ron began to stir. Ginny looked round at him hopefully, and her heart sank as he began to struggle more forcefully than she had. Then he howled in pain through the cloth in his mouth. The cords must magically injure any sort of struggle by the captive. Good bit of magic, but not helping their case.

Ginny began to tap out a message to Ron, but stopped and sighed in frustration.

_Hermione, Ron didn't take Muggle Studies, did he?_

_Unfortunately, no._

Ginny looked at Ron through squinted eyes, and his own blue ones widened into an innocent, I-didn't-do-anything face. –Damn right, you didn't, Ginny thought savagely.

Then they heard a door open. Ginny looked around, but couldn't see the door. It must be on the wall Hermione was facing. Seconds later, they heard a man's voice, low in whisper: "I'll have your gags removed, but don't bother screaming, no one will hear you. You are to explain what you are doing here, and what your mission is."

Hermione sighed as her gag was removed, and she was breathing heavily. In a moment Ginny knew why.

The tall man wore a black cloak, and the hood hid his face. An unwanted image crossed Ginny's mind, clear as air. Voldemort.

She held her breath as he approached her. Ron began to struggle again, now that he could see the body of the speaker. Slowly, he lifted his gloved hands and reached around the back of her head. She leaned forward obligingly and gasped for air when her mouth was free to breathe again. Even though she had her voice back, she didn't trust herself.

_Got any ideas, Hermione? _She tapped.

_No. You?_

"No," she said aloud, and Ron looked around the man as his gag was removed.

"No, what?" he asked. "What was all that tapping for?"

"Morse code," Hermione called over her shoulder. "Handy muggle language made up of a system of taps. It's what they used before the telephone was invented."

"Well, how do you know it, Ginny?" said Ron indignantly.

"_I _took Muggle Studies, elder brother," said Ginny, a pleasant smirk on her face.

"Very good, ladies," the man said, and Ginny jumped. She'd forgotten for a brief moment that she'd been taken as a hostage, for what reasons she had yet to find out.

"What do you want with us?" she blurted out, realizing a second too late how harsh it had sounded. "Please," she added.

She supposed the man had smiled, for the seconds that passed, and she was proven correct when he lowered his hood and revealed his face for the first time.

"Hey! I know you!" she said.

The man chuckled. "Yes, I am Mekhi, from the Post Office. You seem more confident a woman now, yes? I was afraid I frightened you last night."

Ginny smiled. He had frightened her, but she hadn't known why. Her smile faltered. "What do you want?" she repeated, more politely this time.

Instead of answering her, Mekhi whistled with his fingers sharply and the door opened once again. Hermione gasped, and Ginny realized she hadn't seen Mehki's face. "Could you turn her around? Towards us?" asked Ginny. Mekhi smiled, his golden tooth glistening in an unknown light, and walked back to where Hermione must be. Ginny's jaw dropped when he was once again in view, holding Hermione's chair level with his face. Hermione's eyes were wide, and she was whimpering softly. Mekhi, however, set her down gently so that now the three were all within range of seeing each other.

Hermione was noticeably relieved to be near her friend and husband again, but when she caught Ginny's attention, she was mouthing what was on Ginny's (and undoubtedly Ron's) mind at that exact moment: _Where are we?_

The question was answered before any one of them could voice it. "You are in the basement of the Hog's Head," Mekhi supplied, and as he centered himself in the circle of chairs, half a dozen or so people dressed just like him gathered around them, forming an outer circle. They eerily reminded Ginny of Death Eaters...

"We have brought you here for the reason of current events. You have read this morning's _Prophet?"_

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all nodded simultaneously.

"He was our friend," Hermione whispered timidly. Every few seconds she glanced up at the hooded persons and visibly shuddered.

Mekhi's smile disappeared without a trace. "That was not your friend."

Ron jumped against his restraints. "What do you know about that? Of course he was our friend! I spent seven years of my life as his roommate! You don't have a right to tell me who my friends are!" He was obviously overreacting, but Ginny couldn't do anything about it. She was also more interested in what else Mekhi had to say.

"That was not your friend," he repeated. "It was an intruder. Your friend, Neville Longbottom, is safe on the Isle of Wight with his aunt." Mekhi glanced briefly at one of his hooded companions before adding, "What is it you seek?"

"Harry Potter," breathed Ginny, before she could help herself. "We seek Harry Potter." Mekhi nodded, as though this was not new information.

"Your search is not in vain," he said, nodding to himself. "But this intruder... he is involved."

"You made him disappear, though, didn't you?" Hermione said. "How did you do that?"

"I did not," Mekhi said sadly. "It was not my magical doing. Some unseen force that we do not speak of." He studied his three captives. "Do you have a destination?"

The three looked at each other. Ginny sighed. "No, unfortunately we don't." She looked up to Mekhi. "Can you help us?"

Mekhi's smile returned. "I was afraid you were going to ask that."

**A/N: **Long chapter! For me at least – we hit ten pages! I had hit a block, but not for lack of ideas; actually, you'll be glad to hear, I've had a sequel in mind for some time now... And my latest fic "Of Wolf and Man" will have some relevance to later chapters in "The Old Lot." Don't try to guess yet, though, I'll be adding more chapters to "Of Wolf and Man." So really I've been so excited about stuff I haven't even started yet that I couldn't sit still and get through this. But, as you can tell, we _are _indeed getting somewhere. ï 


	9. The Man He Used to Be

**The Old Lot**

The Man He Used to Be

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"Yes. We can help you," Mekhi said. "But only so much."

Ron glanced hopefully at Ginny. "Well, any bit of help will be a lot. We haven't got a clue where we're going." Hermione cleared her throat loudly, and Ron blushed. "What? We haven't..."

"Ron's right," Ginny said. "We don't know where we're headed. But with your help, we could get an idea." Ginny stared at Mekhi unblinkingly, and he nodded solemnly.

"Your friend suffers imprisonment."

"What, d'you mean Az-" Ron started to say.

"Shush!" Mekhi hissed. "You do not know who will be listening!" For a moment longer he stared at Ron, and then turned so fast to the door that Ginny expected his neck to crack. He snapped his fingers, and two hooded people went to the door and pulled it open swiftly. An old man with a long white beard stumbled and fell to their feet.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just came down to ask-"

"Go old man," Mekhi thundered. "Your presence is no longer wanted in this room."

"It's _my _inn!" the man protested. "I can do what I want!"

"You'll do your best to listen to me, Abe," said Mekhi, quietly this time. "You don't need to get yourself into trouble again."

Abe paled at Mekhi's words, his eyes wide, and suddenly he struggled against the hold of the hooded people. "Get off me, let me go! You heard him! Off!" He broke free and stalked, hunch-backed, up a flight of stairs and out of sight.

Mekhi smiled again. "Abe has been in trouble before, and he knows I know about it."

"That's blackmail!" said Hermione. "That's illegal! What kind of sick, demented person-"

_"Hermione," _Ginny warned. She stopped. Ginny gave her a meaningful look; Hermione closed her mouth and sat back in her chair, but still looked angry.

"So," Ginny said promptly. "How can you help?" Before Mekhi could answer, Ginny thought of another thing. "Actually, could you untie us? And give us back our wands? We promise we won't do anything." She shot Ron a quick glare.

Mekhi nodded. "Very well." He snapped his fingers and three of the cloaked figures separated from their fellows. Each began to untie Ginny, Ron, and Hermione with their wands, and soon they were all free of restraints. Mekhi withdrew their wands from his cloak and returned them to their owners.

"You are now ready to receive information?" Mekhi asked.

All three of them answered, "Yes," simultaneously.

He conjured a chair and sat in it, in between Ron and Hermione. "There is an island," said Mekhi in a very low voice, causing the three to lean in. "It is the place where fear once dwelled. We cannot impart to you the exact location of this place, for our people have secretly guarded this place from intruders for the last few centuries. It is not meant for exploration. No matter what exists inside it, it will always be a danger to the unknowing witch or wizard. Its waters are dangerous; the currents will grab you and the rocks will tear you to shreds. The air is filled with magical boundaries, preventing entrance and exit by flight. With these methods gone to you, you must find another way.

"Find those who will help you along the way. The Lady in Green knows part of the way. She will lead you to a wooded glen, wherein the fairy lives. From there you shall find your way."

Silence made the room full to bursting with thoughts unspoken. Finally, Ron said, "That's it? Who's this 'lady in green'? How are we supposed to-?"

"You must go now," Mekhi interrupted loudly. "We do not welcome you here any longer." With that he pulled up his hood, walked out the door, and his fellows followed him. The last one in line, however, tapped out a long pattern with his foot before closing the door behind him.

Hermione and Ginny stared blankly at the door.

_"Lumos," _said Hermione, and Ginny and Ron did the same.

"Did he say...?" Ginny started.

"Yeah, I think he did," said Hermione.

"What?" said Ron impatiently. "What did he say?"

The two women looked at each other for a long moment before answering together, "Luna Lovegood."

X

She looked over at the arrogant. "He will be all right."

"I know."

"We all know," said the thoughtful. "But we don't know _how."_

"Yes, well, you were the only one who never read the end of a book first," said the sass.

"And so," retorted the contemplative, "I was the most likely of us all to actually enjoy reading a novel."

"We are all envious of you," said the athlete.

"Quite," said the conceited.

"I agree with -----," said the warm. "Reading front to back was always my preference."

"Do you miss it?" asked the tranquil, eagerly.

"Yeah, I do," replied the bright, reflectively. "But this, in some ways, is better than a book. Not that I enjoy watching him go through this, but it has so much more meaning, and the deep impact will affect his life for the better, I think."

"I doubt that," said the intellect. "I'd rather not compare this whole situation to reading a novel, really."

"Yeah, how can you say he'll be better off, having endured this? He saw me – Well, you know, when it happened, and that was bad enough for him. This is real _torture."_

"But wouldn't you learn something if that happened to you?"

"You've touched down on it, now, and you've forgotten. I _did _go through that. I was there, all that time, with all the things going round my head that made it spin. I don't think I _learned_ anything from it."

"That surprises me," said the clever.

"Really? Explain."

"Well, I don't think you're taking into consideration all that happened to you. Did you not _learn _to dislike your surroundings? Or _learn _to keep with you that which kept you sane? Learning isn't all about enjoyment, or textbooks."

"I'd take the textbooks, thanks," said the blunt.

X

"Honestly, I don't get why all of these people that are supposed to help us can only give us these bloody cryptic messages and make _us _figure it out... So, it's Luna? What's she got to do with this? Is she the 'Lady in Green?" said Ron.

"No," said Hermione, "but... Well, I didn't think the Lady in Green was real, but if she's got to help us... and Luna... I suppose it _does _make sense..."

"Really? Could you, you know, let the rest of us know?" said Ron heatedly.

Ginny smiled inwardly. She knew what Hermione was thinking about (for once) and Ron had mistaken her, Ginny, to belong to the group he labeled as "the rest of us."

"Luna believes things no one else thinks is real," said Ginny, "And we all took her for a little... loony, right?"

"Yeah, she was-"

"Well, if the Lady in Green _is _real-"

"Then Luna would probably know about her," finished Hermione. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, just as usually happened when learning something entirely new and unexplainable.

"Where does she live?" asked Ginny.

"Dunno," said Hermione, "But we could ask teachers up at the school if they know."

"Yeah," said Ron, and he nodded, as though making a very important decision for the group. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said; she tugged on Ron's sleeve and guided him like an animal to the exit door leading upstairs. Ginny chuckled to herself and followed.

The bar area was completely devoid of inhabitants, as was the rest of the main floor. The muffled sounds of three pairs of feet on a dirty stone floor were loud to their ears, and exiting the building was quite a relief.

It was almost evening. The sun was setting, and the air around them decreased in temperature by at least one degree per minute. By the time they reached the castle, Ginny was shivering and anticipating the moment when she could enlarge her suitcase and put on a jumper.

Just as the three stepped into the entrance hall, loud chatter from the different staircases leading there told them the students were coming down for dinner. Ron gave Hermione a look, and they were about to quicken their steps in order to escape the mayhem when Ginny said, "Wait." They looked back at her, and she had flattened herself against a wall. Hermione caught on and did the same; Ron, confused, copied the two women anyway.

Ginny waited for the students to come in at all the angles. One, five, twenty, and then too many to count: friends laughing at one of their number's joke; girls whispering about who's seeing who and what happened in Transfiguration that day. A particular group of three students comprised of a listener, a complainer, and a moderator, brought a smile to Ginny's lips. The likeness was so great...

Finally - after no one had even bothered to spare them a glance - Hermione, Ron, and Ginny headed up to the headmistress's office. Professor McGonagall appeared to be just about to leave when they walked in.

"Oh, you three, do you need something?"

"Yes, professor," answered Hermione. "We wondered if you might have Luna Lovegood's address, we need to see her."

The headmistress hesitated, and then something clicked. "Yes, I have it, just one moment." She went back to her desk, sifted through a few papers, and returned with a small piece of parchment.

"That's where she last was," indicated the professor. "Though through the few letters we've shared it seems she moves around a bit."

Hermione nodded as she read the address. "She's in London," she supplied the others, "Muggle area; just a few blocks down from the Leaky Cauldron." She looked up at the professor, who appeared to be waiting for any further inquiries, and hugged her. McGonagall looked a little surprised but soon loosened up and hugged back. Ron and Ginny, following Hermione's example, hugged their old teacher in turn, and when it seemed nothing had been left unsaid, they departed for Hogsmeade Station under a darkening sky.

X

A rag doll - that described the feeling perfectly. His limbs were limp, and he definitely did not feel real. Numbness; the absence of feeling, of sensation. He tried to move and could not; he tried to think and could barely do that. The only thing that went through his mind, over and over again, was the memory of that body against his; that sickening sensation in his stomach as she did as she pleased.

The numbness began to dissipate, but Harry found he was not in the least grateful for this. He was naked, and cold air attacked him from somewhere above and around him. His instinct told him to curl up and keep his limbs closer to his body, but his muscles still weren't working. The chill that ran through him was painful, and he was stuck in the illusion that he was buried deep beneath the snow, to never be found by anyone.

His breath cast a mist above his face, and clouded his already foggy vision. Slowly his strength returned, and he inched his arms against his chest, and his knees pulled up to cover them. Across the room, several feet away, there was a small mound: his clothes. Just the thought of trying to get them made him all the more exhausted. He felt nauseous and concentrated on not vomiting – at least until he had moved and was out of danger of drowning himself.

He'd saved the world from Lord Voldemort's rule. And now he was alone, in a prisoner's cell, crying because he was exposed and cold and all he wanted in the world was to put his clothes back on. It was the worst transition he could ever have thought he would make.

Hours. Hours it took to gain the strength to move, to sit up, and to crawl to his clothes that promised to protect him from this bitter cold. For hours tears froze on his face, wallowing in his self-pity, wondering what happened to the man he used to be.

The cold eased. It must've become daytime.

He was sitting up against a wall, clothed and done in. Insomnia kept him from sleep; the cut running down his abdomen hurt when he slouched, so he was forced to rest upright. Was it October? November? December? July? He didn't know and didn't care anymore. If he could die right now, that would just be okay. If he could know for sure that Ginny was all right, dying wouldn't hurt so badly. Nothing could hurt so badly.

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Okay, this is a VERY short chapter, but I couldn't see any way to continue without sort of leading into the next... part, I guess, and it wouldn't really fit.

Questions? Comments? Theories? You know I'd love to hear all of them and laugh... or raise my eyebrows, either way. This is, I guess, the chapter that leads to the end, which makes me sad, because I know it's exciting to reach the end of a story, but at the same time it's like, "Well, that one's done. Now what?" Yes, yes, the sequel, but this is so much _fun_ with the original characters. It's all very depressing. Hell, I didn't even come up with the characters. I shouldn't be complaining when really it's up to JK to end the series and be depressed for a good while.

Anyway, that's enough ranting for today.

Love, Alex

(P.S.- Chatt, my computer won't let me review your story for some odd reason, so hopefully you catch this...

Obviously, I got too excited to type up chapter 2, and missed that part you so WONDERFULLY pointed out to me... Thanks! Yes, we all make certain typos that the computer doesn't pick up cos even after reading over it for mistakes, we're really reading it the way we hear it in our minds... And usually my brother reads over the Old Lot chapters, but I won't let him read this one cos I know he doesn't like anything remotely fluffy :-P So again, thank you, and yes, I love the first person point of view. It is very evident that you can get your ideas across better by writing it that way, and I think it helps keep your writing flow and make sense. Also, I'm a sucker for angst, as evident in the first chapter of Solitude, so I think you pulled that off really well. Good job!)


	10. The Clever Title

**A/N: We've hit double digits!**

All right. I will give you all a hint as to what the no-name conversation in the middle of chapter nine means. (It was pretty random, I dunno if it really has _anything_ to do with the rest of the story.) Okay, for one thing there are four people. That's your first clue. The second is to think about grouping the character traits. For example, who is arrogant, athletic, and smart? Or who is thoughtful, contemplative, tranquil, and clever? Or who is sassy, conceited, and often blunt? Well, might as well give you the last one: Who is warm, bright, and a _she?_

I think that is well enough to keep you thinking for a few hours, minutes, or, if you're really good, seconds. On the other hand, if you are really awful, then days… Have fun!

Anyway, I know this is what you really wanted…

(Oh, and there's a rated R word in this one… Or whatever the ratings are on this site. I dunno if I've said it before, in previous chapters, but just a warning.)

* * *

**The Old Lot**

Chapter Ten

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Ginny pounded the heavy brass knocker against the great hunter green door three times. As she waited with her brother and sister-in-law on the stoop of the flat, she rubbed her gloved hands together to warm them.

The door opened so slightly Ginny was sure if she hadn't been so cold and anxious she wouldn't have noticed. Carefully she peered through the crack and below her were a pair of small blue eyes, wide and unblinking.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Ginny Potter. Does Luna Lovegood live here?"

"She's not home."

Ginny looked back at Ron and Hermione, and they just shrugged. _Thanks for backing me up, mates._

"Well, might we come in till she gets back? We're old friends of hers, from school." Just as the eyes were losing interest, they lit up again at 'school.'

"You went to Hogwarts?" said the voice eagerly. Ginny was pretty sure it was a boy speaking.

"Yes. I was in her year, but we were in different houses." Several seconds passed while the boy decided what to do.

"All right," he said finally. There was a _click _as he unfastened the chain lock on the door before they were permitted to enter.

"Mum likes guests to take their shoes off at the door," he said as he shut the door, pointing to a low, small table, obviously put there to hold shoes not in use; three pairs, two small and one about Ginny's size. Smiling, Ginny followed the suggestion and removed her own. Her companions followed suit, and they were all left there standing in a dimly lit, slightly spacious room.

"The living room's this way," said the yet nameless boy, and he walked with the air of a born leader to the far side of the apartment, his elder visitors in his wake.

Seated and quite beginning to recover from the cold outside, Ginny didn't waste a moment.

"What's your name?"

The boy, who had seated himself in the armchair opposite the couch which held the other three, shyly averted his eyes. "David," he mumbled.

"I like that name," Hermione said, smiling encouragingly. David let himself make a little one of his own.

"How old are you, David?" asked Ron.

"Six."

"I have a daughter just your age," Ginny said. "Her name's Ivy. She'll be going to Hogwarts in a few years; what about you?"

"Mum doesn't talk about her school much. She used to, until…"

The front door opened and closed.

"David, who're you talking to – Ginny!" Luna dropped a bag by the front door and walked swiftly towards the living area. Ginny stood and they embraced. Looking around, Luna noticed Ron and Hermione were there too. Needless to say, David became bored with the reunion.

_"Mum,"_ he moaned. Luna turned to him.

"Yes, dear?" David looked around at his audience skeptically, and then got up on the tips of his toes to whisper something to Luna. She smiled and said, "Have you all eaten dinner? Seems I have to feed my child from time to time."

There was a unanimous approval muttered throughout the room; Ginny was indeed quite hungry, not having eaten since the train ride to London early this morning. So when a very welcome smell began to make its way into the living area, Ginny's mouth watered as though she was a little girl again, smelling Mum's cooking.

Only the general clatter of silverware on ceramic echoed through the small apartment while the party tucked into Luna's satisfying meal. Every so often, David would look up and catch Ginny's eye, then avert his own back to his food. It was as though he meant to say something, but thought better of it each time.

"You didn't need to get out the nice china, Luna," said Hermione quietly, folding her napkin in her hands.

"Nonsense. What's the use of having any nice dishware if you can't use it if and when guests turn up?" she replied with a smile. With an unbidden sigh, Luna backed out her chair and gathered up her plates.

Hermione coughed and when Ron turned his head he received an almost nasty significant look. Startled he saw Luna and immediately leapt up from his chair (far more clumsily than Luna had; David jumped in his seat) and stepped in between her and the kitchen. "I've got these," he said, relieving her of dish-washing duty.

While Ron was occupied in the kitchen (with David watching for moral support) Ginny and Hermione struck up a conversation with Luna.

"So how long have you and David lived here in London?"

"Well, London isn't a new environment for the two of us, but we've been at this place for a few months. He likes our old place better, but I couldn't afford the payments every month, so we went smaller. Of course at his age, he thinks I'm just out to get him and make him unhappy," said Luna, laughing as the volume of chatter in the kitchen escalated.

Ginny wanted to ask about David's father, whom she didn't know, but felt it would be rude so early into their visit. David had started to say something earlier – "She used to, until…" – and Ginny had suspected it had something to do with a father, but to bring it up when she knew so little of Luna's recent life… Well, she may not be keen on the subject.

Hermione looked uncomfortable for a moment. Sighing, she folded her hands and said, "Luna, I don't suppose you were wondering why exactly we're here?"

Luna looked up, slightly puzzled. "Well, I thought it was obvious."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. "You already know?" asked Ginny.

"Well, you're looking for Harry aren't you?" Ginny's jaw dropped and Hermione's eyes widened. Luna laughed to herself. "I've been expecting you since he went missing, actually. It was disappointing not to see you after the first few months, then a year. I thought you'd have been keener on it." She paused, looking almost tragically at her hands. Then she shook her head as though clearing it and smiled. "But you're here now, and of course I'll help you."

* * *

"Grandma, what's today?"

"28th October. Why do you ask, dear?"

"That means Halloween is coming up! Ooh, I want a fairy costume, with wings and a pretty dress and everything." Ivy paused in her sudden excitement, as though she'd remembered something and it was now troubling her. "Will Mummy bring Daddy home soon?"

Molly Weasley held her teacup mid-air before she took a sip, and closed her mouth. "I don't know, Ivy. I don't know when she – when they will be back." Taking her sip then, Molly closed her eyes before she let her granddaughter know how much she really missed her daughter and son-in-law. More like one of her own sons, actually. Since that day they met, Ronald's first year at school, something in her had told her that he was one of them. _And he always will be, no matter what happens._

Lately she worried if Ron and Ginny were capable of making this search together; yes, they were both passionately caring about Harry, obviously each in their own ways. But that could be their downfall. Thank God Hermione was with them, she thought. Keep them in line. Smiling, she said, "Why don't we go see what Papa's doing, eh?"

* * *

"And then he told us that we have to find the 'Green Lady', or whoever," Ron finished. "Just before they left, though, one of them tapped out your name in – _Morose _Code?"

Hermione giggled. "Morse Code, Ron."

"Whatever."

"Who is she, anyway?" asked Ginny. She had been wondering this on and off since they had acquired the information.

Luna's lip curled slightly. "An old friend; and I'll be sad that I can't join you."

On the tip of Ginny's tongue was "Why?", but then she realized the obvious: David. David… she recalled that no one had bothered to put him to bed. Looking up she spotted him in the armchair, supporting his head on one hand with an elbow on the arm; he was desperately trying to keep his eyes open, but continued to fail as his head dipped slowly, almost in sync with the conversation. Briefly she saw a small girl with red hair in his place, but instantly came to her senses and crept silently to his side.

Gently she prodded his arm, and amazingly he was immediately at attention, staring at her with a somewhat hazed look in his eyes. Ginny smiled and whispered, "Look at you, you're exhausted. I think it's time we tucked you into bed."

A mask of protestation overcame the drowsy one, but Ginny put a finger to her lips: "I'll tell you what – tomorrow morning, we can all have breakfast and fill you in as best we can all right?"

"Does that mean you're spending the night here?"

She hadn't even thought about where they would stay. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly midnight, meanwhile giving Ginny a new predicament. Luna's flat was small; she assumed the only rooms besides the ones she'd already occupied were Luna's bedroom, David's bedroom, and the loo. One half of the living area was a makeshift dining area with the table they'd dined from, and the other half where they were consisted of the sofa and armchair. Even now, to accommodate their seating, Ron had pulled up a chair from the table while the three women sat snugly on the sofa. The only reason no one had noticed Ginny vacate her spot was that her companions had been eager to hear about the Green Lady.

"Yes, I think so," she told him, gently coaxing him out of his seat and letting him lead the way to his bedroom.

It was the room of a typical boy of David's age, though perhaps a bit less clutter. Small toys sat in and around a cardboard box in one corner, a bed in another; drawers of clothing lay opened in the dresser, and a closet door was not quite closed on account of something protruding from it on the floor.

"That's it," said Ginny soothingly, pulling the covers up to David's shoulders. "We might see you in the morning, if we decide to sleep in late." She walked to the door and flicked her wand at the lamp on the dresser. It burned quite low still; just enough light to get up and walk down to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

As Ginny rejoined the others, she noticed someone, probably Hermione, had conjured three cots on the floor beside the sofa, complete with blankets and pillows that suddenly seemed very inviting. However, the room was silent as her three companions remained wide awake, two with skeptical looks on their faces, the third with an easy posture and smiling lips.

"What's going on?" asked Ginny.

Luna turned to her friend. "Thank you for putting David to bed, Ginny. I would've done, but your friends seemed so eager…"

"Yeah, and it was all for nothing," said Ron huffily. "She won't even tell us _who _this lady is, only where we might _possibly _find her!" Ron looked at Ginny, who realized he was complaining to her.

"Oh grow up, Ron," she said, sitting on one of the cots, which was quite comfortable. One questioning look at Hermione, and a proud nod, told Ginny her suspicions were correct. "Nice," Ginny murmured.

"Ginny!" whined Ron.

"What, Ron? What is it?" she replied exasperatedly.

"Well, in case you care about looking for Harry at all-"

"Ronald Weasley, don't you even say that," Ginny said, fire blazing in her eyes. "Don't you even _think_ for a moment that I've stopped caring about _anything_ to do with Harry since we were in school!" Ginny continued staring at Ron, who looked like every bit of him was sorry about having said too much. "Now," she continued, "I'd like to know as much as either of you two who this Green Lady is, but I think our prime responsibility, as guests in Luna's home, is that we are respectful and grateful for food and a place to stay."

The room sat in somber silence.

"Well, Ginny," Ron started slowly, "It's just… Luna's just told us… where we could find the Green Lady. You were with David."

"And where is she, then?"

"The Forest of Ae," said Hermione. "I'm not even sure I know where that is…"

"Scotland," said Luna, her eyes glittering. "Near Dumfries and Galloway." Withdrawing her wand, Luna conjured a map of the United Kingdom, and then focused on Scotland. "Just there, you see?" They looked to the point where the tip of her wand lay.

"And she's just in the forest?" said Ginny. "She could be anywhere?"

"Well, she likes the water. And she wears green."

Ron rolled his eyes. "What a clever title she's got."

* * *

"Where have you been?" Draco seemed not to have heard her. _"Where!"_

Lazily he spun his chair round to face her, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks to see him so unconcerned with her distress.

"I have a family," he said. "Surely you understand that such a thing is not possible to keep, without proving my existence every now and then?" His lip curled into the hereditary sneer that characterized the males in his line.

"Oh, as if you're really a desirable _family man…_ How old are they, anyway?"

"Adrian is six, and Ariella is five."

Pansy attempted a bark of laughter. "Is surprises me that you know their names, let alone their ages! Are they happy to see you? Do they remember you? Do they _love _you?"

"Of course they do, all of it, I'm their father!" Draco stood, and the chair crashed against the wall behind him. His eyes smoldered, all flaming ice and no heart.

"Right," Pansy, feigning bravery but actually frightened to death of Draco's rapid rise in temper. "And your wife? Surely she loves to see you, when you show up. Or is it just the good fuck with you two, and nothing more? That's all we have, though, isn't it?"

Pansy saw stars before it stung. Trembling fingers sought her cheek, to meet a sticky substance – her own blood. With her remaining presence of mind, she looked up to see Draco with his wand still pointed at her. He was breathing hard.

Her vision was spotting, but she managed. "Will you remember our child's name?" Pansy was on the ground, unconscious, before she could see the look on Draco's face. And she might have laughed to see such a rare disposition of her lover: surprise, and fear.

* * *

A/N: Hot, hot, hot!

AND IT HAS BEEN OVER A YEAR.

(_I'm baaaaaaa-ack…)_

I am too excited to read over it. So I won't! But don't think this means I've got tons of time now, because I haven't; I've just got a four-day weekend right now, and I was bored… Although look how lucky you lot are, as a result of that boredom! I expect reviews…

Love, Alex


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